Silver Painted Moons
by Malbsession
Summary: 'I was not a good friend, but she is not dead. I know she is not dead.' HG/DM DRAMIONE #dramione
1. The Confession

_ Silver Painted Moons_

The Confession

St. Mungo's, December, 2002

''Silence!'' Kinglsey yelled as the reporters were roaring with questions. ''Silence!'' he shouted, this time watching them with a dangerous gaze. He fixed his robes on his body, collecting his thoughts and ordering his emotions, wanting nothing more than perfection shown.

Two of the reporters were pushing each other, trying to find their way in the front. Kingsley lowered his face feeling ashamed of their actions, but didn't find the courage to blame them. He frowned. His once shining shoes were now a bit blurred cause the change of the room temperature. ''Minister!'' a young boy called him, but Kingsley's mind was travelling to the young girl he just saw - the girl the Muggle authorities found only some hours ago.

It was not a lie, they thought it might be her. Deep down, he wanted her to be - it would end this nightmare faster if it was.

''Minister!'' the boy called him again and he rose his head, eyes filled with uneasy feelings - at this point, who needed to be perfect? ''Minister, a word, for Merlin's beard!'' he sighed, pushing the other reporter aside and fixing his own robes as he was, in fact, standing in front of the Minister of Magic. Kingsley thanked the men and Aurors who travelled with, and locked eyes with him. The healers and his personal assistant formed a shield behind him and the nearest camera man took their photo. ''Was it her? Was it Miss Granger?'' he asked rather rushed, watching the sweat on the Minister's forehead clearly now.

He wanted to leave. He didn't want to be there, he didn't want to face anyone anymore. A numb started to cover up his left arm, but he paid little attention to it. ''I am.. positive to announce that the body found yesterday morning, in a Muggle hotel room, was identified as Mrs Helga Werart..'' sighs started to escape every reporter's lips and even if he wanted to do the same thing, he couldn't, he knew he couldn't. ''.. a Muggle medical - '' his assistant put his hand on his shoulder, making him turn his head slightly to his right and hear the correction from him. He closed his eyes in defeat and nodded, saying, ''Right. Right. Of course.'' he nodded again, watching back at the hungry eyes of every single woman and man in front of him. ''She was a Healer student.'' he sighed, not knowing why this information was interested enough, but even if he had too many of those, he pressed his lips together, taking a big breath. His eyes met Harry's who was leaning against a wall some steps away from the small party, away from the press, away from ruthless talks. ''Miss Hermione Granger is still missing.'' he said and watched him leaving. He so much wished to do the same.

* * *

_Ministry, First of August, 2002_

His disapproving eyes were on her. He was mad, a bit troubled maybe. The long parchment of her hand-written confession was still in front of him. Some veins were popping out the back of his hand. The spot his fingers were touching filled the paper with wrinkles - and it was a long parchment, with a lot of memories being written, a lot of gaps being filled with the light of the truth she had found day by day since the beginning of summer. He covered half of his face with his hand.

His lips were sealed and behind his palm - not that he would ever talk with a fast growing temper. She knew it and took her eyes off him. It was too much for her to see him like this. She didn't want to do it in the first place, but she couldn't sleep at night, knowing she could have done something, anything to help. It was an excitement knowing she could help, like the very first snow of the season, when kids walk the dressed in white streets and play with no worries in their heads. Like the freshly washed sheets on the bed, and the smell of roses as they bloom. And it's been a while to feel like this. It's been a while to feel excited and look forward to do something. Her cheeks pinked, and her lips turned into a small smile. Her eyes focused to half eaten nails and a small embarrassed wave shock her spine, but it was worth it. The moment she gave him the parchment, she was breathing a different air, she was feeling like her old self, like a burden had lifted from her shoulders. At least now she could sleep at night knowing she had done the right thing, but most importantly _knowing_.

Because for Hermione Granger, the past was half told, and who could she really trust if not herself to find the truth? Who she could trust, if not her own eyes, her own memories? Who she could trust, if not her own opinion?

Distant echoes of her friends' voices telling her all about the Malfoy Manor, Dobby, the Battle covered the roaring breathing of the Minister. Every single time the story was the same. The chandelier fell, she hit her head. Dobby took them away, and Dobby died. The Battle, the snake and the kiss. No mistakes, no changed words. Every single time - as if the story was written somewhere and they read it again, and again. As if they had been told what to say to her. And all these, and so much more made her feel alone, even when they were all three of them together. She hardly recognized those two, especially Harry. And she was missing him, so very much. Even if they spent time together, and talk to each other, she never stopped to feel like an outsider - an outsider who just happened to be around when Harry faced his demons, creating her own.

And those demons haunted her. Every day. For four years.

What choice did she have if not believing her friends? What story she was looking for, to find? What kind of questions she needed to answer? Maybe it was a hunch, maybe it was the knot her stomach was turning to whenever she was having one of those dreams. It took her a while to realize they were not dreams, it was not her imagination. A Muggle therapist told her it was the trauma. _Take those pills_, he said to her, but she never did. She knew she could only trust her guts - and her guts were telling her there was more than met the eye in this story.

It was hard to fix her memories. It was hard to realize she was being lied to. It was hard to face the truth. Sometimes, she cried herself to sleep, wanting nothing more but to forget what she had remembered. Others, she would just stare at him from afar, trying to find a reason for his actions. But the hardest ones, where those she had to look her friends in the eye and hear their lies. The people she trusted. The people she fought with, side by side. The people she loved.

Choosing what to do to fix what happened four years ago, hardly was a decision to make after that.

The burning from his eyes made her feel a little uneasy. It felt like an itch she couldn't reach. The wrinkles in the paper grow faster - she might have thought of taking it away from him, but what good would that bring? He wanted to tear it apart, of course he wanted.

''You waited for four years?'' he wrinkled the parchment completely and trash it down on his wooden desk, hitting his hand and hearing a squeaky sound. ''Four years?'' he yelled again, watching her strong, confident and calm eyes not moving away from him. ''Do you know what are you starting?'' he asked with a bit of disgust in his eyes, wanting nothing more than to have her confidence.

''I am finishing it!'' she defended herself, her voice breaking at the end from the lack of use. ''I am setting things clear, once and for all, I - ''

''Miss Granger, this - '' he said, pointing at the trashed paper and then at her. He took a big breath, reminding himself of who was he, who was she, and what she had just done, '' - this will start an action of doings, an action of whats, of whys, hows, and we fought too hard, Miss Granger, and we lost too much to be this selfish - '' he pointed at the parchment again.

''Selfish?'' she used the same tone in her voice as him, only to make him more angry.

'' - to even consider allowing this to happen!'' he finally breathed, opening the top bottom of his robe, desperately trying to find a way and calm himself down. ''Lucius Malfoy accepted the Kiss, two years ago, his family was begging for a plea and now you came here, with this?'' he threw the paper aside, but she hardly moved a muscle. No, he couldn't find a way to calm down after all.

''The confession is not about Lucius Malfoy, I care little about him - ''

''We can tell, Miss Granger! We can tell!'' his eyes coloured with a meaningful gaze and narrowed ever the slightest, but it did its work - she felt offended.

''What is that suppose to mean?'' she yelled, placing a hand on top of his office and looked at him dangerously. ''I want to set the story straight. I want to tell the truth - ''

''I took Harry's word on your behave - ''

''And now I am fixing what he has done - ''

''How could you even know - '' his lips sealed. He looked at her with surprise, but not the good kind. ''Did you - Did you use Ministry's money for your research, Miss Granger?'' he realized as if someone whispered it to him. ''Tell me you didn't use our funds to - ''

''I use the money the Wizarding World paid me for my services, and I would do it again, and again, and again if I had to!''

''Was that the reason you sold your Wizarding property a year ago? You spent all your money in this damnful research you called revolutionary and now you have nothing? Is this heroic effort to clean one's name, pointed by him?'' his face burned up and he had to stop his talking and take a big breath.

''You have no idea what are you talking about!''

''Yes? Are you using this, this.. scam, to make money from the only Malfoy heir - ''

''I couldn't care less about money - ''

''Funny for you to say, as I recall you were the one taking the most profits after the War, isn't this the truth?''

''My research will save hundreds of Wizarding Beings whose minds are lost. I refuse to apologize for what your Heath Department didn't do.'' her eyes could easily burned him down if she wanted to, but for now, she only looked at him with anger and lots of nerves. ''Where was your Ministry when those poor souls lost their logical thinking and no one offered help? Where was your Ministry when they locked in St. Mungo's and treated like crazy - ''

''Who is going to believe you, Miss Granger?'' he asked and her face blanked at once. Suddenly she was no longer the woman she thought she is, but the woman they tricked her to be. Old images of herself in St Mungo's bombed her mind as if his question was triggering emotions of a certain month she didn't want to remember. Her breathing fasten. His poisonous words did their work. ''Who will believe the woman whose memories selectively removed and had to be reminded of what had happened during the war?'' he narrowed his eyes, knowing what he was doing to her, but he wouldn't stop now.

''It is not like this and you know it - ''

''The woman who sold and spent every gift the Wizarding World had ever provided her, only because she wanted to win the magic that is still running through her veins?''

''I adore this World - ''

''The woman who couldn't even remember to whom her heart was being given - ''

''Fuck you!''

''If you are getting upset with me, imagine what the World will say, the press, the page turners?'' he whispered to her, putting his weight on his elbows and looking straight at her eyes. ''Are you ready to face the reality?''

''Was Draco Malfoy ready when you, guilted him?'' she took a big breath, watching triumphantly as his face took its previous anxious expression and his eyes filled with anger. He sat back on his chair and looked at her as a worthy competitor. She did the very same, brown eyes challenging him to answer. She will not be treated like this anymore, and that was a personal promise.

''Draco Malfoy was not imprisoned and you know it - ''

''Was Luna Lovegood, when you left her unprotected and alone in a room for special treatment,'' she pointed the last two words perfectly and rose a brow, ''..when the spotlights gone and the reporters found someone else's balls to suck?'' she whispered mimicking his earlier tone perfectly, ''Was I ready, when you kept brainwashing me into believing the flawless story of yours?'' she asked again, shrugging, two brown locks fell in front of her, framing her face, ''Was I ready when I was screaming that something was not felt right and all you had to say was _not bother_?'' she looked at him with the kindest eyes, making the hair behind his back raise. She knew he was starting to be scared of her, and she loved it. ''Was I ready, Kingsley?'' she asked, watching his jaw tightened and swallowing hard.

But his lips were pressed together. And his eyes were not leaving hers. There was an answer somewhere in his mind, but he couldn't speak it. He couldn't think of anything - only what will happen if this confession reach the public eye and every wall they tried to build around the glorious Battle will fall. There was nothing else in his mind rather the outcome of his actions. He could even say he was feeling regret about what had happened back then. ''All I ever wanted, was to protect you three. I was trying to protect you. It is not the same. You are not the same like the rest.''

''By not knowing the truth? By not seeking it? Are you a Minister, or a Dictator?''

''You were children, trapped in a battle that costed you too much - ''

''Do not dare to speak to me about lost and pain and regret and hurt and loneliness and fear and anger and defeat! Do not dare to picture yourself as the man who thought of us as children and not warriors - ''

''I was trying to protect you, Miss Granger - ''

''By letting me be in the dark?'' she stood up, the chair pushed back and made a characteristic sound as it rubbed against the marble. She walked to where Kingsley threw the trashed parchment and grabbed it. Her hands unfolded it and her leg rose, placing it on top of it, starting to straighten it. ''By fouling even your own self?'' she looked at him through her thick curls, ''By lying?'' a brow raised, stepping on her two feet and putting the parchment on top of his desk, her hand not leaving, as she had placed her upper weight on it, preparing herself for what was about to follow. ''This is my confession. Signed and looked after by me and my Lawyer.'' she narrowed her eyes at him, feeling his anger growing. ''This is what happened. This is the truth. Stop pretending you have everything fingered it out because I have faced the demons you dared not to. And I have fought for this World when I was spoken lies, and half told truths. Fix it Kingsley, or else you will not going to like who I remembered I am.''

* * *

Ministry, December 2002

''It's been a month.'' Harry broke his thoughts. Kingsley's eyes left the spot where her hand used to be when she left the wrinkled parchment and walked out of his room with a smile on her face and a steady pace. ''A month.'' he repeated as if he was trying to realize it himself. He sighed and looked Kingsley over his shoulder. The distant sound of the rain was playing like a melody to the silent room. They both hated it.

Kingsley grabbed two glasses and placed them on top of his office. The carved firewhiskey bottle was half empty to his eyes - but he grabbed it too, with a much sloppy move, causing the glassed top to fall from its place and roll towards Harry's feet. Finally, his eyes left from the grey sky. It was a day like this, he learned about Hermione's missing. He extended his hand, taking the top and examining its carvings. He walked towards him, finding the empty chair and sitting. ''Maybe we should consider a different approach to find her.'' Kignsley offered him a glass.

''Like what? Interrogate everyone in the wedding?'' Harry snorted and took a sip of his drink.

''We can start with Ron Weasley.'' Kingsley offered, and Harry looked at him surprised. ''Perhaps she felt wronged, maybe someone saw something, or heard something - ''

''If she wanted to be found, she would have been found by now, Kingsley.'' he spoke with a bit of pain in his voice, and his gaze lost in the golden liquid. ''I am starting to think, she might have done it on purpose.'' he spoke in a whisper, not noticing the relief in Kingsley's eyes. A loud thunder touched the ground somewhere really near them and both men looked outside. More grey clouds were gathering in the London sky. ''I was not a good friend the past couple of years.'' Harry confessed, snorting with the memory of the Minister in his house, telling him about her missing. He had James in his arms and a grief in his heart. ''I am starting to think if it is my fault.'' he breathed in, finding the courage to speak about what was on his mind the past weeks. ''I might have read the signs differently, perhaps she was telling me something was wrong and I was not listening.'' his eyes filled with tears, his head lowered more. ''She is not dead, I know she isn't.''


	2. The Research

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Research

_May Fourth, 2002_

_Independent Experimental Wing, Downtown Wizarding London_

She closed the door and rested against it. She was glad there was no one in the streets this morning. Hearing another cheerful comment about her involvement in the war, could be enough to consider runaway as a solution to all of her problems. Her arms curled tighter around the folder she was holding. The headache was still troubling her - but she was not going to complain about it. It was a major breakthrough that headache. Yesterday night, she remembered something. Something she thought it was caused from her wild imagination and her slightly over-pushed will to find out what had happened, but no, it was a memory. The falling chandelier. And a voice, Ron's most likely, telling her to wake up. The sand on her skin, Harry crying - and the memory gone, and everything she had learned from Ron and Harry filled the gaps.

It wasn't a total win, but it meant one thing - she was getting closer. Perhaps she was missing a key ingredient, some herb or a liquid she overlooked? Her stomach sounded. Right, she had forgotten to eat again. She frowned with the irresponsible action, but blamed the pain.

The blinds were pulled down, not that it was bothering her. Bright light was the last thing she wanted - especially when the last two days the heat and sun were unbearable. Her arms relaxed, revealing the whole folder. She breathed in and out for some moments, telling herself to relax even more. The green light from the sterilization oven caught her attention. She might have forgotten it last night; she was too tired and so much in pain. The clock in the office at the end of the room, pointed at seven. Potion's effect should have worn out by now. The idea of not using the potions she was making popped in her mind only to fly away like a bothering fly - the formula was correct, she knew she was getting close.

A sigh escaped from her dry lips. Her gaze travelled around the long room, wishing she hadn't forgotten anything else on. Muggle machines, the kind one can find in a microbiology lab, were on each side. They were small machines, usually for mixing ingredients and see how well they work together. Some other small laboratory equipment was resting on top of the long metal table, where underneath were shelves she used as storing, filled with magical and non herbs, potions, liquids - anything she could get her hands on. Her small lab was the one and only in the Wizarding World - she could say she was proud of herself.

The steam from her cup reached her nose and her lips curled up a little. One of the privileges of waking up early was the short waiting line to her favourite cafe, where they made fresh tea every morning. Today she had gifted herself with a double cup and a double dose - she needed it. Even if the walk from the cafe to her work was hardly long, the building was placed at the end of the opposite street, she had only dared to treasure the scent from it. She didn't want to, but she left the cup on top of the helping stand, the one she had next to the door, with the cactus she named Bob decorating the first shelf along with old mails and some newspapers on the rest shelves. ''Morning Bob.'' she smiled at the plant and left her folder too. She took her light denim jacket off her small body and hanged it behind the door. Her white robes waited patiently to be worn. A high pitch sounded from the bottle rocket. She jumped to her feet. Her eyes scanned the machine. She grabbed the folder and walked towards it.

The sample she left was ready. A smile shown on her face and she opened it, taking the flash and watching its changed colour. The formula she invented was simply amazing to handle. Yes, she was too close she could practically taste the success in the back of her throat. Her hand rose to the pocket of her robes where she always carried an extra pen. The sewed logo of the Health Department found her fingertips and she lowered her gaze admiring it. If anyone ever told her she would be the only female healer with license to practice experimental potions, she would have laughed; and look at her now.

Another smile, along with an excitement fired her whole mind.

She opened the folder where she was keeping her research's journey, and wrote her observations about the new flash. The pen gave her a hard time as its ink was about to run out. Her eyes rolled and laughed on her own luck, but it bothered her a little. Her eyes scanned the white coloured room in an attempt to find another pen - and she froze, eyes stuck to the untouched hot cup. She frowned and felt her mind numb, as a small terror hugged the realization that hit her harder than the time she understood she had feelings for Ron. Fast beating heart against her chest warned her about what she had done. Coward steps towards the helping stand came without noticing by her own self. Small steps and then rushed big ones as if someone was about to enter from her shut door and caught her doing something inappropriate. If it was up to her, she would have run away, never return and maybe consider burning her lab to the ground, but her heart had already ordered her body to stand like a statue in front of it, examining the shapes the steam creating and never taking another breath, until her cheeks started to purpled and she felt dizzy.

Her heart started to beat faster and faster, sending messaged for air to her brain, but she couldn't do it. She almost felt paralyzed, sick even. Her hand extended quite rashly and grabbed the cup. Her eyes started to burn and feel watery. A small panic waken her mind and she let her breath out, hungrily breathing in and out. _Fuck_, she thought and looked at the greenish colour of the tea, the one she ordered this morning, the one she asked to be double dosed - it was not her favourite Rooibos tea. ''Peppermint.'' she spoke and took another breath, then another and another, until a heated wave of comfort spread in her heart. She rose the cup, taking a sip and making a disgust face. She hated it - but the smell was everything she needed to know.

ΛVΛ

The clock on the wall pointed at twelve. The headache was gone, and there was a half eaten sandwich somewhere near her, causing the smell to reach her nose and make her stomach sound. She rubbed her eyes, cursing the quickly passing by hours and wishing there was more time in her everyday routine. The book about Muggle Herbs was still in her hands, refusing to let go. It must have been the morning incident, maybe the confusion, but she had read it three times, not that she was counting.

There were times she thought she was missing something - two years now, from the moment she started with her research she was missing something,_ but peppermint?_ she thought and looked at the dry leaf on top of her desk. There was no use of the herb in the Wizarding World - the watch's bracelet tangled with the bracelet. She cursed again and took the watch off, fixing the bracelet. A sad smile decorated her lips. Her fingertips caressed the back of the watch, reading Ron's vow. He had gifted her the watch when they were together for only a month and by the end of the second, they had broken up. She could safely say she misses him, not the boyfriend, the friend.

There were times she thought, Ron could take everything away. The pain, the sorrow, the will to recover her memories, only by using his love and nothing else. When that didn't happen, a crack had been created - a fast growing crack between the three of them, isolating everyone from anyone and pushing away every little effort of anyone who dared to come closer to them. Each of those three people had lost and suffer more than anyone they knew, but more importantly, they will remain scarred, up until this day, having absolutely no control to change it.

For Harry, his scars were filled with guilt, for Ron with anger, and for Hermione, her scars were a play of acceptance.

She needed it to put a closure in her past and create a future for herself, but neither Harry or Ron seemed to notice how pained she was - and that scared her the most.

The dry leaf of peppermint made her sigh. For the total of seven hundred and thirty days, she was missing something. For the most part, she thought it was an ingredient, but some nights, when the dream land of her half waken mind managed to shake her off bed and violently open her eyes to see the familiar blue walls of her bedroom and calm herself with deep, clean breaths, those moments, she thought she might miss a person. She would laugh with the idea, but feel her heart recovering from uneven illness as their break up was making sense, knowing Ron was not that person and maybe he could never be.

She took the leaf in her hand and smell it. Its scent had long gone now and it wasn't as strong as the tea, but it had something on it, something that could easily wake up familiar feelings.

The pen fell from her hand and she blinked, focusing on the folder of her research. A big breath filled her lungs and she rubbed her eyes again. God, she was tired. She wanted to go home and sleep till there was no thought in her mind, troubling her or even making her feel trapped. Gathering the papers in the folder, she stood up and put the book back to its place in the enchanted bookcase of her office. The lamp's light gone and she yawned, wishing she was in her bathtub, with a glass of wine.

She walked towards the door, taking her robes off and wearing her light denim jacket. The wide opened blinds caught the attention the moment she was about to leave, and she sighed, blaming herself for forgetting them again. She walked to the window and rose her brows in surprise. A specific, well-known silver haired wizard, walking fast on the sidewalk, his one hand deep in his slacks' pocket, the other holding something she couldn't see - what was he doing downtown Wizarding London past hours? But before she could answer the question herself, a witch shown, running behind him. _Some things never change_, she thought, and a distant _Malfoy_ from the woman's lips sounded leading to another one, a louder one, causing him to stop. Hermione frowned, as the running woman stopped and closed the distance between them leaving only some meters space. They extended some words and he turned around to leave, leaving her alone in the dark. ''Womanizer.'' she mumbled, but the woman turned her attention to Hermione and she knelt on the floor, feeling her heart beating faster than before. ''Fuck.'' she said, counting down from twenty and cowardly rose her head to see the woman gone. She pulled down the blinds and locked her lab. Maybe tonight she will drink three glasses of wine.

* * *

Ministry, December, 2002

The knock on his door made him jump a little. He cursed himself for feeling this nervous for the past weeks. His eyes fell on the dark wooden surface. He clearly asked for privacy - a second knock. A sigh escaped from his lips. In his hand there was still the last report of Hermione Granger's missing. The Investigation Department surely has done an excellent job with the whole thing. He stood up from his leathered chair, walking in the middle of the room, but the door opened wide, and the apologetic eyes of his secretary fell on him. ''Miss Ackroyd.'' Kingsley froze to his spot, watching the examining eyes of the elder witch scanning the room. ''What a pleasure.'' he mumbled the moment she narrowed her eyes at him.

''This room is still left unchanged.'' she observed, running her eyes up and down his body, making him change his posture. ''I loath unchanged things.'' her left brow rose, and he swore he wanted to keep his breath and die right this second. The man who was escorting her rushed to take her robes off her body and leave, closing the door behind him and standing like a guard outside the Minister's office. ''Is your mother well?'' she asked and took her gloves off, holding them in one hand and noticing the two chairs in front of the desk.

''Yes, she is - ''

''Splendid, now..'' she sat in one of the chairs and looked at his weirdly features. ''.. well, sit. Do not wait this visit to be long.'' her hand pointed at the empty chair in front of her and her lips curled up a little.

''To be honest, I never had knowledge about this visit.'' he pointed the space between them with his eyes.

''Kingsley, you do know I hate talks and love doings.'' she smiled as he frowned and a snort sounded. ''Do not tell me you would stay here, wait for me to visit, when we both know you would have found a rather degraded excuse to not see me.'' the challenging eyes of hers fell on him, causing a small knot in his stomach. She was the last person he needed to be with at this moment. ''With that said, and having no time to waste - '' her eyes fell on his desk. She looked at him, then the report and her lips curled. ''Quite the trouble she made, yes?'' she took it in her hand, reading the written words. '' .. _might not be alive._'' she read and a sound escaped from her mouth. ''We searched Miss Granger's laboratory yesterday.'' the report fell from her hand - she knew it was not that important to him.

''Should it mean anything to me?'' Kingsley asked and she laughed. An original laughter, like the ones she used to have with his mother all those years back. He rose his brow, wanted to ask her why she was being this cryptided with him, why she always made him hate himself after some seconds of common talk - but he simply looked at her, push down all of those questions, and maybe more, patiently waiting for her to stop laughing.

''Give me her research - ''

''What research - ''

''Playing dumb, will not work. At least not to me.'' the tone of her voice coloured with boredom and a bit of conflict. After what seemed to be an eternity, she hit his knee with the gloves she was kept holding in her hand. ''For Merlin's sake!'' she said quite madly and he felt as if he was sent to the Headmaster's office for a mischief he made. ''I am not the public to treat me like a fool.'' her patience ran thin the moment he met her eyes. ''My request is simple, and quite fair. Give me her research.'' her voice managed to create chills that travelled up and down his torso.

It mattered little to him that she was upset. ''Gladly, if only I had it.'' he found the courage to open his mouth, with a calm voice, surprising even himself.

She smiled to him, in a way that reminded him of his mother when she knew he had done something wrong - but he didn't let himself show anything to her. He simply sat back to his seat, watching her eyes narrowing for too long, wishing he had one of those cameras todays kids have and capture the moment. Who would have thought he can act like so in front of Bernatted Ackroyd.

She took the report back to her hand, reading the careful notes of the man who tried to find her the past month. '' .. might not be alive.'' she spoke his words and smiled at him. ''I accepted Miss Granger and her slightly paranoid idea of research, knowing how many results she will give me.'' she said to Kingsley as her eyes read again and again the report. ''She understood one thing, most of potion masters do, but she, Kingsley, she conquered that knowledge and treated it like her own. This is the reason I accepted her - she took the worn off formula of reverse outcomes, and created something unique, something changeable to every single wizarding being. She created a recovery potion.'' she smiled at herself as the words filled the vibrating air around them.

Her eyes rose to see him -pressed lips told her one thing; he was getting angry, and to her perfect self, angry was just amazing.

''I know how smart Hermione Granger is - ''

''Do you?'' she shrugged, watching his features taking a confusing shade. ''Do you really?'' and she smiled again, causing him to shiver from head to toe. ''I believe you do know where her research is, or the ingredients.'' a fake sigh sounded and she crossed her legs, ''I believe you do know what that discovery will cost our Ministry, our Health Department. How many will slaughter to her feet just to be recovered? Just to have their memories back?'' her lips curled as his pressed even more. ''Isn't this an enough reason for _might not be alive_, after all?''

''Have care of how you are going to end your thinking, Miss Ackroyd.'' his voice sounded strong, but his nails were deep inside the fabric of the chair. ''I would have never - ''

''All I know, dear child, is that you saw her last, and she was alive then.'' she smiled again, this time throwing the report away and shrugging one shoulder.

''And all I know, is how desperate you are for that research to be in your Health Department. How much will you cost the recovery I wonder?''

''Galleons are galleons Kingsley. It is not a crime wanting more.'' her legs uncrossed and she stood up. Her eyes scanned the room one last time. ''Very well then.'' she turned around, facing the door of his office and walking towards it, wearing her gloves. ''I was glad young Malfoy got his fatherly names' fortune back.'' she said looking at him over her shoulder.

''Did he?'' he tried to be as much as surprised, but he failed.

''Even if you were always good with laws, and spells, and Auror duties, business thinking never was your forte.'' her hand curled around the knob of his door, but before she could open it, she smiled like the devil and turned around to face his already troubled eyes. ''You fucked _Enterprise_ and every Agency knows. If you have to know, Draco Malfoy managed to offer the barren east land and help us extend St Mungo's. There will be a wing, dedicate to patients with memory loss.'' her back straightened perfectly and her eyes shone more as the words came out of her mouth. ''Do continue your Minister's doings. I can image the problems you are dealing with.''

* * *

_May Fifth, 2002_

_Downtown Wizarding London_

She rushed to cross the street. She held the folder of her research with the other hand, raising her arm to see the late hour; almost nine in the morning. She cursed in her head. Too many times. The unreasonable thought of being late drilled her mind, but couldn't blame herself. The past days she was at the edge of exhaustion. Too many hours working, too little sleep, not enough food and always some glasses of wine before bed. Add some other projects she had started to work on and she had the perfect recipe for tiredness.

The cafe's door was wide opened due to the unexpected warm day. She practically ran inside, only to see the little people waiting in front of the counter to order. She frowned and cleared her throat, fixing her white silk shirt she had buckled up in her vintage coloured jeans she had stolen from her mother before she obliviate them. She pushed the thought away, not wanting to remember them and fooling her own mind with the tasks she had for the day.

The four people in front of her become two, placing their order to the woman in front. She took a big breath, wanting to relax her fast beating heart, but it only beat faster. She rushed to exhale the toxic scent of the cologne she was smelling - a cologne that was familiar, but yet so unknown. A slowly, deep breath filled her lungs with the scent again and a panic grew in her heart as her mind found a strange shelter behind that scent. And she breathed faster, wanting to memorize how she was feeling - because it was something unknown, something new and old at the same time. Something refreshing and too kind.

Never she had thought of feeling this way - she couldn't even name it. Cowardly and as if it was wrong of her to have the need to see who was behind her, she turned her head, meeting grey eyes, looking funny at her. She held her breath then and she turned in front of her, focusing to the bald spot of the man she was facing, daring not to breath again, or move, or feel this way again.

The line moved, but her feet didn't. ''Granger.'' his voice was husky and he had leaned his torso closer to her, almost whispering to her ear. And she finally breathed. A regular breath, a calm breath, like the ones she used to have when she was at home and at peace and her mother was next to her, reading something from one of her books, and her father was sitting on the sofa, eating some of the popcorn he made just some seconds ago, and reading his favourite Oliver Twist novel, commenting for the thousandth time how well represented the main character was.

And it was all she ever wanted to feel. That peaceful calmness, that nostalgic excitement, the one she had forgotten it existed, the one she thought she will never feel again. She lost her mind? Is she losing her mind? ''Malfoy.'' she spoke his last name before a light sigh that brought relief to her hurt heart. Her hands curled around her folder more. The watch on her wrist pointed two minutes before nine. She licked her lips, not knowing why. A desire to see him filled her mind. She wanted to see why was he the one offering so very untroubled feelings of comfort. She wanted to ask him why. She wanted to beg him to share his secret. Her breathing fastened now - as if she had run for some miles and the oxygen was not enough for her - and with every new breathing, a new feeling was awakened.

And somehow, the heat was not too bad, the sun never was so bright, the past hour was okay, and the folder in her arms didn't matter.

''Miss Granger.'' the woman behind the counter said with a rather cheerful voice, breaking Hermione's thoughts who took the last step and stood with her back straight in front of the counter and smiled at the young woman.

''Good morning Klara.'' Hermione greeted with a kind voice, noticing the way her cheeks were burning up. She frowned, travelling her eyes in the direction the young woman was looking and watching Draco Malfoy smiling at her - _womanizer, right,_ she said to herself, and looked at the woman, the frown never leaving her forehead.

Now, she was holding a cup. A cup having a hot beverage. Its steam was escaping from the brim with a delight movement, playing with the air in the store and flooding all around her, creating a very thick layer of fear in her mind as it offered its smell to her burning from his cologne nose - and everything started to move in slow motion, as he was still standing behind her, he extended his long arm, taking the cup and thanking the woman. And she turned her head, she turned her whole torso, before he would bring his arm back to his body, and she watched the cup being in his big hand, the brim overflowing with the dancing steam and a high pitch, covering every single noise around her.

He was talking to her, she knew he was. But there was nothing, anything in the world that could take her attention away from that cup - away from the fear that was spreading in her heart as her mind was putting one plus one together and creating a reasonable explanation - _no, no, it can't be,_ she said to herself, and the noises around her started to bomb her mind. ''What is that?'' she asked, never leaving the cup off her eyes, fearing of what he might do.

He looked at her with a matter-of-factly eyes, raising his brows a little and wrinkling his face. ''Tea.'' his husky voice made her spine shiver this time, although she didn't know why.

''What kind.'' she wanted to ask, she really did, but now his cologne had been trapped around the scent of his tea and her lungs could not bear the feelings anymore.

''You suck at easy conversations.'' he smirked and her eyes met his, causing the smirk to disappear. There was something behind them. A need, a realization maybe - whatever it was though, it should have made him more concerned than he was at the moment. ''Peppermint.'' he said without any facial expression, without any colour in his voice. ''It's peppermint.'' and he left, saying he was in a rush.

And as easy it was for her feelings to fire up, it was easier to put down again. And somehow, the heat was unbearable again, and the late hour was making her mind feel uneasy. And her arms curled tighter around the folder, because nothing was more important than it. And nothing was there to be felt again. Even the tiredness felt little compared to what extend her emotions took the very first moment she took a single breath - one single breath. And suddenly, everything was lonely, and she was alone, extremely alone.

''Miss Granger.'' the happy voice of the woman sounded.

She couldn't turn to see her. She only took a step forward, and then another one, and another, until she knew she was running after him.

The muscles of her legs were complaining - she had to run in a while. How fast is this man walking anyway? Her hug around the folder was tightening with every step she was taking. ''Malfoy.'' she called his name, but he didn't listen. He simply put a hand in his slacks' pocket, and kept walking. ''Malfoy!'' she yelled this time, and he stopped, turning around to see her stop and froze to her spot for only a second before she started to walk towards him. ''Since when are you drinking peppermint tea?'' she asked, only some meters away from him.

He frowned, but stood in his place, watching her needy, hungry even brown eyes, fighting back an urge to disappear in his. ''You are the weirdest person I ever met.'' he said with a small smile, slightly visible from where she was.

''Since when are you drinking peppermint tea?'' she asked again, feeling her stomach turning to a knot as he took a step towards her.

He didn't move again. He understood she might not want to be that close to him. ''Why does it matter?''

''Answer the question.'' she said with a small voice, tightening her hold more and more with every passing second.

There was a hesitation. A pause that felt like hours. He looked at her, without saying a word, without an expression, without any shade of emotion in his eyes. If she knew him better, she might know why - but she didn't, and he was such a mystery to her eyes to even consider try and guess. ''Since ever. It's my favourite.'' he answered and shrugged as if it hardly mattered to him in the first place. He turned around and he left, leaving her alone on the sidewalk, as some cowardly growing clouds darken the sky.

She watched him walking away from her and her heart skip a beat. She looked at her left, the Independent Wing of the Health Department was standing tall and beautiful in the middle of ugly buildings and wry stores. Her eyes rose to the ninth and last floor, her floor, where a woman was watching her from the window. ''Fuck.'' Hermione mumbled as the woman disappeared from her sight.


	3. The Guilt

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Guilt

December, 2002

Harry put James in bed, closing the door behind him and letting out a deep sigh that almost stuck his lungs together. He was feeling exhausted and a bit mad and maybe done with everything. The rattle in his hand, made his heart ache. At once the thought made him feel guilty - he rubbed his eyes and took some steps down the stairs.

The low sound of the radio made him roll his eyes. Another sigh. He was too tired to have him around, but who was he to ask him to leave? He was at the edge of drunkenness, which only meant he would have to stay for the night. Another sigh escaped from his lips. He wanted to sleep, but a smile curved his face and his lips disappeared as it only grew wider. He took the hanged frame in his hands, remembering the night the picture was taken - fuck, he was happy then. Happier than ever. Maybe the happiest he'll ever be. The image of his wife with her belly as big as a balloon, sitting next to him brought a warmth in his heart.

A loud sound, similar to the one of a door being shut loudly made his eyes lost in its wooden surface.

* * *

_May Fourth, 1998 _

His eyes couldn't look elsewhere. The laying body of the girl he spent all his childhood with was left unmoved and covered with a light blanket the nurse offered some minutes ago. Her cheeks were pink and her lips slightly apart. There were people moving all around him, some daring to ask about the Battle, others acting shy and only looking at him from afar, making sure it was indeed the boy-who-lived standing among them, others simply offered their condolences and the rest, those whose words were never even brought up to existence with only miserable eyes travelling up and down his body, stealing glances of the man who fought till the very end, those people haunted him.

He tried to keep everything out of his tired mind.

Kingsley put a hand on his shoulder. He was hurt, but he never complained. They only dared to share a second of eye contact until he spoke the only logical thing on his mind. ''It's my fault.'' a deep sigh escaped from his lips as the words sounded and the thought became a burden.

''No one's fault it is Harry.'' Kingsley reasoned with him, but Harry's guilt was starting to grow, eating every single piece of peace he would seek from now on.

The Healer nodded from afar. Harry rushed to meet the spotless floor with his eyes. He had argued with the old man earlier - could he blame him for feeling ashamed? _Confused mind,_ the Healer said to Harry and the Weasleys, adding the words _spelled to forget,_ who wouldn't argue with him?

ΛVΛ

''Gentlemen.'' the Healer talked to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They both stood up from their seat at the same time, as if they had practiced it too many times before. They both wore the same worried eyes on their faces, as if no one else knew how difficult it was for them to see their best friend to be locked in a room, having no idea what was going on with her. They both were holding their robes in hand, Ron might have even held it tighter than Harry, but that was not a competition. The Healer looked at them with a conflict in his eyes. True to their promise, the one they both had given the day they brought her here, they never let her alone, having shift of guarding her, or even keeping her company, reading her, telling her about what is going on in their World.

Most days their tales were coloured in a cheerful tone, telling her all about the people rescuing the deciduous World they dare to call their own, wanting to keep the high hope high only to feel their shared pain roaring as the night was falling. Harry understood it faster than Ron. He mostly kept her company then, reading her whatever book he could put his hands on, saying again and again this was the more he read all his life. If she would be waken, she might have laughed with his comment - he knew she would.

The Healer opened the door of his office wider. The morning light of his extremely big window managed to blind them. Ever since the day Hermione woke up, leaving was not an option. ''Please.'' he pointed at the empty chairs and they found themselves sitting in front of his large desk. If someone else was there, they might have commented on of the obsession the Healer had with the size, in general, but that very second, both Harry and Ron were only thinking about Hermione. They heard the closing door and then the old man walking around the long desk, and sitting in front of them. Some parchments were on top of his desk along with a line of quills, each prettier than the other. Harry had managed to take his eyes away from them, noticing the way the old man was staring at him. Perhaps it was his excitement about the boy who lived, perhaps the nonstop talking about the way he killed the Dark Lord or how his devotion was never in question - whatever it was, the Healer couldn't take his eyes off him.

''It's been two weeks!'' Ron looked at the old wizard who now met his gingery features and guessed how hard couple months had been for him too. ''You said she would recover after her waking and not only it didn't happen, but now she can't even remember the Battle!'' he lost his patience and saw the Healer raising a brow. Harry put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. It was not a time to start the fight he wanted for all those weeks now, they needed the Healer to make her better, to make her remember.

''Mr Weasley, it is not that easy to be said.'' the Healer spoke slowly, whispering even. He looked at the way their eyes looked back at him confused. He was too, but how can he ever say this? His job was to make people better, but now his hands were tied, he didn't even know what was wrong with Hermione. How could he admit he was confused? ''Miss Granger, well, her memories you see..'' his voice broke. He had orders from Kingsley to say what had happened to her, but he found it hard to do so, especially when there was no one else in the wizarding history of having the same issue as her. ''We can say with great confidence, her memories had been collectively gone.'' he carefully said, this time watching their expressions changing to different once.

''Collectively?'' Harry asked with awareness in his voice, realizing exactly how it was sounding, only to hear Ron's yell in a perfect panic.

''Gone?'' Ron's body tensed up at once as the image of her, looking back at him with innocent, friendly eyes popped in his mind. ''What do you mean gone?'' he yelled again, this time almost breaking the resting of the chair he was using. ''No one obliviate her - ''

And from where he was standing, Ron Weasley was right, no one had put a charm on her. The Healer cleared his throat. A fast beating heart made him realize how deep into the shithole he was, because from where he was standing, she had been spelled - but how could he ever say it to them? And his orders, he had to follow the orders he was told. ''Mr Weasley, it is not an obliviate spell. We do not know what it is, to be honest - ''

''But she remembers some things, things that happened, I mean - '' Harry looked at Ron. He had told him about their kiss, about their shared moment, but now whenever he was watching Hermione's confused, friendly steaming eyes, he was seeing a different person, not his girlfriend, and in his mind, it was not early to call her that. ''What can we do?''

''Nothing.'' the Healer said and watched the boys snorting. He was warned about that reaction.

''We must do something, the press is asking questions, there are people wanting to hear from her, there are people expecting her to be seen in public, what if someone asks a question she cannot answer - ''

''Mr Wearley, there is a lot to process, of course, but ask yourselves this; isn't it better she cannot remember certain things?'' the wizard asked them and they looked at each other. ''Kingsley had shared the nature of the conflict she put herself into, let's say,'' he looked at the paper he had in front of him and then at the boys, ''At the Malfoy Manor for example?'' his eyes rushed to leave the paper, ''I do believe it is a gift her stage. Image how much pain a memory can cause. Wouldn't it be better for her to be told what had happened rather to remember?''

''I am sorry, are you asking us to lie to her?'' Harry laughed nervously, knowing how much Hermione hated lying. The old man pressing his lips together.

''Not only me. Kingsley had asked about it as well.'' he confessed to them, putting aside the parchments of her hospitalization, threaded his hands together. ''Gentlemen, you have to understand how much it will help her to move on with her life.'' he tried to reason with them and took the top paper and gave it to Harry. ''You allow to inform her of what is written in the parchment. Everything else - ''

''What?'' he yelled reading the first two lines. ''This is nonsense!'' his eyes widened as he kept reading.

''Let me see!'' Ron tried to take the paper from his hand only to frown at his best friend, who rose his hand high.

''What the fuck?'' he yelled ending the written lines and watched the Healer lowering his head. ''She is allowed to know - ''

''She is allowed to have a calm, prosperous life.'' the old Healer yelled slightly at Harry, who felt his heart heavy at once. ''Is it not what you wish for your so called friend?'' he rose a brow, challenging Harry - but he was too busy watching Ron's calm face.

He had read that parchment two times, marking the very first time in his life he read this fast and a small smile curled his lips. He held the parchment tightly as if he was holding his salvation, his last card to win a dead match - little did he know how he will regret it afterwards, but for now, he only nodded once at the request of the Healer to never speak of it again, guaranteeing personally for Harry's muted oath and rushed to ask too many questions, showing too much interest of how he could help Hermione for now on.

Glued to his chair, Harry was left to clench and unclench his jaw, thinking of how much he lost in this war, how much he lost from the moment he step foot in Hogwarts, how much he is going to lose from now on - and how he would do it again and again if it was for his friends. Ron's voice made his stomach twist. He didn't want to do it, he didn't want to lie to her, not for this.

* * *

_February, 2000_

Harry looked at her. He was worried if the apartment was not what she expected. If he wanted to be honest with himself, he was afraid she wouldn't like it. Her eyes travelled all around the living room. It was not a big house, either it was small - it had a living room with a shared dining area, which Hermione was sure she would never use, a kitchen with nothing in it except some plates in one of the cupboards - ''China?'' she had joked, leaving the beers they bought and walking to the small hallway where a studying room was, next to her bedroom.

''Thank you.'' she smiled at Harry, who took his coat off. He looked around him, no place to hang it, either to sit - ''Balcony?'' she suggested, taking the beers and opening the door to the marble floored balcony, where no chair decorated it, no plant, nothing. It was depressing to say the least, but it was hers.

He followed her, taking the cigarette package from his inner pocket and offering one to her. ''Last package.'' he looked at her pridefully, knowing she was not believing those two words when they came off his mouth. ''Ginny was clear. It's either her or that.'' he pointed at the cigarette, lightening it and offering the lighter to Hermione.

''I am blaming the pregnancy.'' she laughed, making Harry look at her surprised. ''I am happy for you Harry. You deserve a family.'' her voice made him shiver. She hit the bottle he was holding with hers and smiled. He wanted to curse her.

He was feeling guilty for the last two years and her constant good hearted behaviour was not helping him at all. Either was everything else, but who was counting human virtues? Two years now, she was nothing less than kind, and caring, and supportive - especially when he informed everyone his decision to have a gap year, even if he never went through with it - and of course she was the only person ever kept listening to him mumbling about what ever he lost and selfishly pointing out how lonely he was. It could easily drive her crazy. And Harry knew it.

But she never, ever complained about it. Maybe because deep down, Hermione was feeling the same way, maybe she wanted someone to mumble about all those things they had along the way, maybe she wanted to feel joined.

He could never tell with her after the Battle, and he never will.

''Harry, you trust me?'' she asked out of the blue and looked at his hand tightening around the bottle. ''Right?'' she frowned a bit, wondering why he was behaving weird this afternoon.

''Of course and I do Mione. You know I do.'' he didn't look her in the eye this time.

She nodded. She knew he was trusting her, but she wanted to hear it. ''I do too.'' she wasn't at the moment. ''I do.'' there was a certain tone in her voice, something that Harry would have noticed if he wasn't paying attention to his cigarette. She laughed with herself and he rose his gaze to meet her slightly happy eyes. ''I sounded crazy the past months, haven't I?'' she wetted her lips, taking a sip from her beer, wishing she had brought her gloves.

''You had experienced a lot. It's normal Mione.'' he understood she was chilly and he took his wand out, creating small flames around them. ''It's the trauma, nothing else.'' he lied and Hermione knew it.

''Could you please tell me again what happened after the Forest of Dean?'' she cowardly asked. His green eyes looked at her, never taking a second to blink.

''You know what happened. We've told you.''

''Tell me again. One last time.'' she offered him a chance to be honest with her, but to her disappointment, and perhaps his as well, he lied. Again.

* * *

_February, 2002_

The image of her laying body inside the coffin was never leaving from his eyes - now everywhere his eyes dared to focus, he would see her, wearing the dress her mother sew for her. Her last dress. And her eyes would look at him, deadly, empty, alone.

The fear in his heart was spreading like flooding water in a running day, making him realize how much he craved for everything to end soon, how tired he was feeling the past days, how desperate it was for him to never use his mind again. A hand put some pressure to his shoulder. Her curled hair was the first thing he noticed and his gaze fell. Hermione offered him a glass of whiskey - the original one, the kind only Muggles can make to perfection, the one that could drunk you too easily and make your head spin pleasantly, the one that is always there to make you forget who you just buried.

''I put James in bed.'' she said in a calm voice, leaving her glass on top of the railings and tightening her dark coat around her waist.

His eyes fell to her hand then. A hand that almost wore an engagement ring, and thank God and every other factor that bothered her ring finger to be decorated right now, because he knew, as well as the man who thought of putting that ring on, she will never, ever will be willing to risk their friendship for a not-that-sure love feeling - and Harry called it _feeling_, because that is what it was, one single feeling of confusion. ''Thank you.'' he said and took his eyes off her hand - maybe it was not a thank for her doing, but a thank for not letting their friendship ship away and destroy everything - because at that moment, Harry only had Hermione and Ron to hold on to.

He looked inside the house and tiredly rose his brow. Everyone had gone. And now he would be alone.

And as if she understood how depressed he suddenly felt, a sad smile appeared on her face and she thanked God he hadn't noticed it - she needed not to be seen at the moment. Her eyes were red, her cheeks all pink and she had a baby smell all over her black blouse, which was the only thing keeping her mind drilled to the reality she was witnessing.

Harry took a big sip and she did the same. It was raining for some time now. Small mud pods were covering the front yard, where the leftovers of the plants were sucking the water thirstily. A faded smile curled her lips - she loved the smell of wet grass, and who could she kid? She loved the smell of wet leaves too. It always brought up memories of their shared days in the Forest of Dean. Even if those days were haunted and full of fear, sometimes, some moments before and after the sun would rise, that very five minutes, where the colours of the sun were decorating the new sky and a hope seemed to roar somewhere next to her, warming her heart and making her tensed shoulders relax, those five minutes, she was breathing in and out calmly, emptying her mind and filling her soul. How much she craved of that five minutes right now. How much she wanted to shut her mind up.

The glass in her hand had a thin layer of ice. She moved her thumb, watching the perfect fingertip. Harry cleared his nose, breathing in the cold air. She knew he was silently crying. Who could blame him, he did just buried the love of his life - if only Hermione knew the reason why he was so suddenly letting his guards down. Because for Harry, it was not just her presence there, either it was her devotion to him or his wife, not even the long hours she spent in their house, it was everything else plus maybe those three reasons combined.

Once again, she proved to be the person he never was after the war.

And it was getting harder by the minute. His heart was starting to feel heavy, the burden on his shoulders was easily a ton weighted, and with every single breath of the rained leaves he was taking, the forbidden memories of their shared past, a past that drew a line to their friendship and made them drove apart for a while, was burning his mind, his soul, making it even unbearable for him to look her in the eyes again.

She looked at his bent head. ''I can stay if you want - or I can leave.'' she rushed to fix her mistake as the panic in his eyes grew more. ''I should - I should leave. Do you want me to leave?''

He felt the need to curse her, to tell her everything, to ask for redemption, but who was he to do so? Who was he to be worthy of a redemption? The long old story of the dead people who were able to see upon the living popped in his head. What would Ginny say if she found out about his behaviour? About his lies? Would she forgive him? Would Hermione ever forgive him? ''You are a good friend.'' he said, not knowing why he even said it, or maybe he did, he just didn't want to admit it.

''So are you.'' she smiled again, not feeling drunk at all and not noticing the ironic shake of his head.

Her eyes fell back to her glass. The need to drink up every single bottle in the house filled her painful heart up. She wanted to stop feeling, stop fearing the truth she was facing this evening, fearing of the pain her friend was experienced, fearing of the pain everyone in the Weasley family carrying. Her hand rose and she took another sip. This time a bit fuller. She wanted to close her eyes and never open them again.

The emptiness in her heart, the strong numbness pounding her brain, the remained salt on her cheeks was enough to threaten her entire consumption. First her parents, now Ginny. She was at the mercy hands of its whims and at times, it could tear her apart with such ferocity, such hate, it would leave her an empty shell - and today, the grief was plenty and like every other time, significantly appreciable.

''Hermione.'' he called her, thick rain drops weren't letting them see an inch away. ''I am sorry!'' he slightly yelled as the rain got stronger.

She frowned for only a second, giving him a sympathetic smile. He knew she didn't know what he was talking about. It didn't discourage him though, in his mind he had made the very first step to salvation - ''It was not your fault Harry.'' her voice sounded along the rain, almost colouring his soul with the same greyness clouds. She was talking about Ginny. Of course it wasn't his fault. ''There was nothing you could do!'' she let her glass on the wet railings, taking a step towards him.

She had no idea why he was apologizing all of the sudden and she had no desire to ask.

* * *

December 2002

''Harry?'' Ron called him holding a glass of firewhiskey in his hand and hiding the other in his pocket. ''Harry?'' he raised his voice ever the slightest, letting the door of the kitchen slap behind him. Harry focused on the photo of his late wife, with her belly as big as a balloon and a smile shown on his face. ''You comin'?'' he asked with a bit of annoyance in his voice and walked back in the kitchen.

''Yes.'' he looked at the shut front door of his house, wishing he had another chance, a chance of fixing everything.


	4. The Anger

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Anger

December 2002

Ron looked at him taking another bottle of firewhiskey from the cupboard and bringing it to the table. He knew he didn't want him here, but he was not going anywhere. His friend needed him and Ron needed the company. He was still wearing dark coloured clothes, something that Ron didn't understand. He had been told about the Muggle behaviours at times like this, and he was done trying to talk him over, even if he felt like he had to - Harry had to go to work for over ten months and if it wasn't for Kingsley to calm the angry Aurors covering his shifts he would have a problem - Ron could understand how he might be feeling, both Harry and Kingsley, although he dared not to speak about it. The bleeding out sorrow was deeper than the one he faced back in 1998 even if for Ron was the very same - their duties kept them sane and now Harry only wanted to be home, caring little about the people left behind.

Ron might have mentioned it a couple of times, but he paid little attention to his words - for the past months Harry was paying little attention to anything except his son. He felt his spine shivering. It wasn't only him who lost her, Ron had lost her too, the Weasleys had lost her too, and Harry was consuming all the sorrow for himself, talking little to anyone, going out of the house for only grocery shopping and pretty much spending his time in the company of his son, noticing little around him, expecting everything and everyone to be left the same.

Hermione had warned Ron about this kind of isolation, but he didn't think he would see it happening. Secretly he wished he had listened to her when she told him about it. With the corner of his eye, he watched him taking a sip from his third glass of firewhiskey this evening - Ron was sure that in his eyes he might be the one who looked drunk and not himself. In one of the ends of the table, he had left a photo of them. It was the one they got before Hermione and he broke up, the one with Hermione in the middle, laughing and just being herself, with Ron and Harry aside, pointing out something hilarious at the time but now simply forgotten. ''You know, Kingsley might be right.'' Ron spoke without thinking about it and only having in his mind how very much misses her. ''Maybe she wanted to leave. Maybe she wanted to be away from us.'' Ron emptied his glass and grabbed the bottle to pour more. ''It wouldn't be news if she did.''

''Ron, she is furiously mad at us. We both lied to her.'' Harry talked slow, taking the photo and turning it upside down.

Ron rubbed his eyes. He wanted to tell him they all lied to a lot of people, but at least they didn't run away. He wanted to tell him how wrong her behaviour was and how they only wished for her well being after what had happened. He wanted to tell him how he understands her actions, how incredibly infuriating it was to be around Harry Potter and his whining self these days. How too much he's been. But he didn't. He closed his lips, cursing the way her actions affected them so very much and how she was always there as if she never left. He cursed himself with the last thought - she wasn't dead, he knew she wasn't dead. She just wanted to run away from everything she had ever done for them, maybe hurt them the way they did. And if that was the case, he felt jealous, he too wanted to leave, to run away.

He took a big breath and cleared his throat the moment his lungs emptied. He wished for a calm night, but Harry's guilt was making him angry. ''She will come back. She always does.''

''She knows the truth, Ron!'' Harry lost his patience and met his eyes for the first time this evening. ''And to quote her, she fixed what we fucked up once again.''

* * *

_June, 1998_

Questions were boiling her mind. Big green eyes were looking at her. It was safe for her to say she was confused and much safer to question everything, not only because Harry was seemed nervous, but most importantly, because he was looking at her in the eye, as if nothing had happened, as if he was not lying. Her heart skipped a beat at the realization. She could smell the freshly baked pumpkin cake with extra syrup he brought her this morning from where she was sitting in bed - he had to go all the way to Hogsmeade for that cake and it only meant he was feeling ashamed about something. She tried to understand why he might have been feeling this way and the only explanation was guilt.

Harry smiled at her, noticing himself the beautiful smelly cake and stood from her bed to bring the box. Cowardly she smiled too, even if there was a confused shade in her eyes. ''Thank you.'' she said and opened it, watching perfectly even pieces being placed perfectly inside the paper box, causing her to wonder more if that was possible. She wanted to focus her mind and see that the story she was hearing was simply too perfectly cut, like those pieces, fitting perfectly to every gap her memory had, but the door opened wide and Ron walked in, a smile on his face radiating the whole room, causing the small concentration to fade.

He was pretending he was fine for her sake, she came to notice - it only made her feel sad about it. She knew about Fred. It was the only memory she knew for sure it was real. She had held Ron's hand one night and told him that everything is going to be fine, he smiled and put yet another poker face for her sake.

He sat next to her, taking a piece, making Harry roll his eyes. ''What?'' he asked, but took a simple eye widening as a reply.

''I told Hermione about the Battle.'' Harry's voice made him lose a bit of that optimistic mask he was wearing. He looked at her, then their friend, then her again.

She didn't remember kissing him, she didn't remember about him calling her his girlfriend. It hurt him when he found it out, but not as much as her friendly eyes scanning his face right now. There was no trace of romantic feeling in them, no love, or anything like it - it was just friendly eyes looking back at him with friendly feelings and friendly desires - it could only bring him physical pain. He put a hand on her knee, giving it a small squeeze. This time there was no smile on his face, no fake feeling, only his need to see the girl he loved, but there was no trace of that girl anymore. It almost felt as if the flames of that fire sucked her in.

Her brow rose for only a second, making him take his hand off her in time to miss the scared expression her face coloured up with. ''Brilliant.'' he spoke with a sigh, licking the orange gloss off his lips, before Harry looked at him disappointed. ''I mean, wasn't it about time, Mione?'' his nervousness made his voice sound honest if that was possible.

''We know it is a lot to take in - '' Harry looked at Ron who laughed.

''She was there!'' Ron sounded thrilled this time, telling himself it was time to be the person he promised Harry to be when they agreed to this. ''She knows what happened, right Mione?'' he asked, taking another slide and leaving the box aside. ''You might need some time, that is all!'' his voice was now coloured with a small excitement, making both Harry and Hermione frown. He looked at them, realizing he might have crossed the line with his new persona. ''Did Harry tell you about Kignsley? Dad's sayin' he'll be Minister.'' Hermione took her eyes off him and he did the same, noticing his dirty hand.

The door of her room in St. Mungo's opened wide, watching Molly greeting them from afar. ''Harry, there you are! Please will you come for a bit, dear?'' she asked Harry, watching the way his kind eyes fell from Hermione and gave her a sympathetic smile. ''Wipe yourself Ronald! A grown man acting like a child, is it acceptable?'' a handkerchief float towards him as her words ended and Ron rolled his eyes. They watched them leaving together and the door closed behind them.

Ron looked at her, offering a charming smile which made her blush and take her eyes off him, looking at her hands resting on her lap - and as if that blush was an open invitation, he extended his hand, taking hers and she met his eyes. There was something in them, something he had seen Harry having when he was looking at Ginny. It made her frown. Not only because she knew why he was looking at her like that, but mostly, and wanting to be a hundred present honest with herself, she didn't want him to look at her like this, not right now at least.

He found himself moving closer to her. He was having a rather nostalgic gaze in his eyes, like the one he used to have every time someone was mentioned Fred. ''What are you doing?'' she asked when he put his hand on her cheek and placed himself some inches away from her face.

''I - I was trying, I wanted to kiss you.'' he said and a pout shaped his face.

''No. It's wrong.'' she knelled her legs, knowing his hand will burn her if he kept touching her.

''Mione, there is no reason to be ashamed.'' he gave her a small smile. He put his hand under her chin, raising her head to see her eyes. ''We kissed before.'' he nervously laughed and she moved away from his hold. ''What's wrong?'' he asked at once, remembering when he had seen that look before.

She took her hand back too, watching the way his fingers fall. She knew what was asking her, she knew what he wanted. His hand was not moving from the place she had left it. A fast beating heart made her take faster breaths. He was there, ready to accept her and became what she once dreamed of, to have what she dreamed of, but she just couldn't. Not right now, not like this. She felt unsure about everything around her, she couldn't tell what was real and not. She felt uneasy and somehow betrayed, her guts were telling her something was wrong, but her mind couldn't connect the dots right now. And everything felt as if they moved faster than she wanted and she was desperate to make them slow down only for a second. She wanted to take a breath, away from everyone. Her eyes couldn't meet his. She wished to say she was not ready to give him what he wanted, maybe even say she might need time, but deep down, to the very last cell of her core, to the very last beat of her heart, she knew, he was not what she wanted to have in her life. ''I don't remember kissing you.'' she spoke, hiding herself behind her illness, if that was what it was.

She looked at him and he was hurt. He frowned. He straightened his back and tightened his jaw. His eyes darken somehow, but not for the reason she imagined - deep down, he too had been feeling just like her, lost in the feelings of must and should have, lost between darken ages and confused feelings, lost between shared experiences and the fear of having no one to understand how it is like to have those experiences in your life, having nightmares and missing dead people. That moment he felt hurt, but only for a second. They both knew it wouldn't lead anywhere but that didn't stop them forming a so-called relationship only after some months she checked out of St. Mungo's, tangling their mutual confused feeling around the only person who thought could bring peace to their minds, calm their nightmares, heal their wounds, cure their past - they tangled each other, wishing they never did.

* * *

_Last day of April, 2000_

Hermione rushed to reach the elevator's opened doors. She had this huge bag full of groceries and a bottle of wine in her hands. She let out a deep breath, calling her floor and her apartment's number. The elevator went up fast only to turn left two times and then go down a couple of floors. She might have said the vometing feelings had past after the first couple of rides. She did hate it, but it was the only available apartment Harry found at such short notice and to be honest, the cleanest one. The promise she had given to herself ringed her ears and she smiled - she wouldn't complain.

The doors opened wide and she froze to her spot. His tall body was resting against the wall of her apartment and now he stood still in front of her, waiting her move, which never came, because it has been almost a year since the last time she saw him. ''Hi.'' she cowardly said, taking a step and then another, hearing the elevator leaving at once.

''Hey Mione.'' he greeted with a half smile, perfectly visible even if the lamb on the entrance lobby was taken off and never replaced. ''Sorry I showed up - ''

''No. No.'' she gave him a sad smile, trying her best to find her keys, but the heavy bag was not letting her do so. ''Sorry, one second - '' but she couldn't finish her sentence as his arms were already extended, taking the grocery back and leaving her with the bottle of wine. She put her hand on her coat's pocket, taking her keys out and unlocking the door. ''I wanted to come yesterday, but I hadn't finished my paper and I had a due date.'' she tried to explain herself, but Ron's eyes were looking around. Right, he had never been here before.

''You weren't joking saying it's small.'' he observed the place with interest - a small anteroom with a slightly shorter than usual console and a hanging mirror to the left, a hanger to the right. A three seated sofa in the living room with an armchair Ginny got her as a gift, a small dining area with a table and four chairs, the kitchen next, a hallway, three other doors there - all that could have been his too, but it wasn't feeling right. He cleared his throat, walking inside.

It was neat and simple, hardly gave the impression of a habitable house. He watched her taking her coat and hanged it. Her petite body seemed thinner than the last time he saw her, making him wonder if she was getting much food in her belly. Without noticing, he looked at the groceries he was carrying - chicken, pasta, vegetables, milk, some fruits. The idea of her exhausting herself seemed much more logical now.

He found himself following her towards the kitchen - the library she had set opposite from the living room caught his eye and a smile carved his face. There was hardly any space left.

The broken promise they gave burned his mind. They said they will stay in touch, but never did, he meant to write but found it stupid, she meant to write more but never did. She stepped on her toes to grab a pot from the top cupboard and he acted fast, taking it in his hands and placing it on the counter. ''I hope you are hungry. I will make pasta.'' she smiled at him. ''You will give me the opportunity to use the dining table for the first time.'' she turned her back, pouring water in the pot. ''How is Romania?''

''They're transferring me here for the rest of the year.'' he nodded, taking his eyes off her and looking at his feet. ''Paperwork.'' his disappointment did make her heart ache.

''They will be lucky to have you.'' she rested against the counter, smiling at him.

ΛVΛ

He was rolling the end of the glass of wine with his two fingers. He had said no to desert and she left to look at him as his eyes were dark and his mood even darker. He hadn't spoken much from the moment they sat down to eat, either he commented on any of her talks. She wanted to ask what's wrong, but she wouldn't do it. Her glass was still full and she took a big sip.

The last time he left speechless for so long was when she told him she wasn't in love with him. He had asked her if she was sure about it and she said yes, missing the relief in his eyes. The past years, Ron grew to be kind and caring. He grew to be able to offer and receive love. And it wasn't the idea of that love that scared her, it was simply the touch, his touch, her touch. Either she, or him were feeling something under the gentle touch of each other - it should be a shiver, a sparkle, an electrifying vibration, intoxicating their bodies, but they felt nothing. She had said she was no longer in love with him, missing his need to hear it. He might have felt responsible for her redemption, a wedding might have popped in his head like a dark veil, only to turn to fireworks when they broke up.

Why tricking themselves into a relationship when both could see their dead, unhappy future unfolding like a peony?

''Ginny lost the baby.'' he suddenly said and met her eyes. She was not impressed, she expected it to happen. ''You knew?''

She shook her head. ''I thought she might.'' her voice was soft, calm even. ''She is not ready. She is still in mourning about Fred.'' her eyes fell to her hands and her heart beat faster than before. ''Her mind might be in the right place, but her heart isn't Ron.'' her hand extended to reach his, but he took it away fast enough. She didn't blame him - whenever a conversation included Fred's name his mood would change.

Her eyes fell on his and he tightened his jaw. ''Sounds like us.'' he spoke with a bitter voice, wanting to hide his pained heart from her. She sighed, taking her glass and taking another sip, revealing the watch she was wearing as the thin fabric of her shirt fell down. His eyes fell to her pale skin being decorated with the gift he gifted her, with the handwritten oath in the back, promising his love and support with four words; always there for you. They both felt ashamed. They both wanted to be there for each other, but it was simply easier not to be - easier to understand what had happened before and after the war, easier to see clearly what they have done to themselves, it was almost unfair for them, having to fall apart only to see how low they fell.

She wanted to cover her arm, disconnect him from his gift, but who could she really lie to? That watch was the only thing kept her from blaming them for her confused mind. That watch was a prouf they cared about her. She smiled and lowered her eyes to the shining dusty gold skeleton around her wrist. ''Doesn't it.'' her voice came out broken, forceful even - she meant to ask, but she couldn't as her mind was brought up every scripted answer she was taking for them when she was asked about what she had forgotten. Her decorated wrist felt forced to fell to the floor, sink its way to the ground, taking her inside a tomb of dark secrets and untold truths.

''Are you happy Mione?'' he asked her out of the blue. ''Do you wake up in the morning expecting something, anything?'' she had to tell herself to forget about the past for only a second, feeling Ron's depressed thoughts quelling her body. ''I forgot what's like to open your eyes in the morning and look forward to something, expect something.'' he nodded once too many times, pouring more wine in his glass and hers.

She knew what he meant. She knew what he wanted to say. Everything seemed dark these days, everything seemed lost. She used to say to herself that it was just her who is feeling lost, especially when she was watching Harry and Ginny living a life full of love. She wanted to believe it was just her - if it was, it would mean she had an opened wound, an unhealed scratch somewhere on her back, demanding attention, but caring only to be left alone, not wanting to lose more if she dare to scratch it, and now, hearing Ron speak the things she left unspoken knowingly because of the old familiar fear, right now, she felt joined. A tear traced down her cheek and he took her hand in his.

''We can run away if you want.'' he offered and it got her attention at once. She looked at him a bit flattered at the idea, a bit surprised. He smiled at her and she did the same.

''And where will we go, may I ask?'' she rested her hand under her chin, looking at him as he tried his very best to be the man she might want to have in her life.

''We can go to Romania. Their Health Department is not as advanced as ours, but you will make it through.'' he snorted with the idea himself, as it rang strangely in his ears.

''Sounds like a good plan, but not for us.'' she took a big breath and let it out slowly, letting a small burden leave from her shoulders. He looked at her, her beautiful brown eyes were looking at him like they used to for the last two years; a friend. It was that moment he realized what he was missing the past months, a friend, a person who could relay to. Hermione was that person for Ron. They tightened their hands as if they were making a deal, both realizing how much similar they were. They didn't care for the late hour, or for the slowly burning candles on top of the table creating perfectly rounded spots on her tablecloth, for the moment they simply looked at each other, memorizing the face each looked and tried to think of a life where they weren't the Golden Trio, they weren't depressed and filled with fear, pain and lost, but two people who had a chance in this world.

* * *

_February 2002_

People were talking to him, but he cared little to listen. His eyes were not leaving from Harry Potter.

The people that talked to him, talked to Harry first. The people shaking his hand, shook Harry's first. The people offering their condolences, offered them to Harry first. His tensed body was standing in front of the glassed door leading to the balcony. The big green eyes were red, but he had to cry in a while. His son was with his grandmother who wouldn't stop crying. He now was shaking Oliver Wood's hand, putting the other on his shoulder and he nodded, pouting his lips. Over the past years Oliver had turned to be a good family friend to the Potters, thing that was always made Ron question it.

He was not married, he didn't have a family, he was just one of the coaches in Harpies. ''I am sorry Ron.'' he said, putting the same hand on the same shoulder as Harry. ''She was so young.'' he said and Ron nodded.

Yes, she was so fucking young, how dared everyone telling him this? She was a mother as well, she was the only sister he ever had - his hand broke the glass of firewhiskey he was holding, cutting his palm, but he cared little about it.

''Ron?'' Hermione called him, and his mind blanked.

A great first step brought him closer to the man he called his friend and brother-in-law, and yet another to the man who others called the-boy-who-lived, and yet another to the man who lead them to a path of misery and pain. His bloody hand grabbed him, dirtying his shirt and making everyone else in the room shut the mouths and take a step back, away from the snapping of the youngest now Weasley.

He tightened the fist of his bleeding hand, finding it hard to fully close it without paining, and hit Harry's jaw, hard enough to only make a small redness that faded away when the last visitor left.

''It's your fault.'' he said as tears ran down his cheeks, covering every place they covered before. ''It's your fault!'' he yelled, trying hard to keep himself standing. Harry grabbed his arms, keeping him on his feet. ''Be damned the day I met you! Be damned the day I called you a friend!'' he yelled again making everyone gasp. ''I lost my brother for you! I lost my sister for you!'' he screamed and felt Charlie's arm around his torso, holding him. ''No! No! Leave me alone!'' he pushed him away and walked down to Harry again. ''I trusted you.'' he said and now his hand pointed at Hermione, who was standing in the kitchen shocked. ''We trusted you.'' his eyes were not leaving from his.

''Ron you are drunk, you don't know what you're sayin' - ''

''Fuck you Charlie!'' he pushed him away again, painfully looking at the brother he only sees once a year. A wide step brought him face to face with Harry again. His bloody hand was curled around his neck, but he was just touching him, feeling the pulse jumping up and down - the pulse his sister lost. ''You said she would be happy with you.'' he almost whispered this time, never taking his eyes off him. ''You said she would be happy and now I buried her.'' he let him free pushing him hard enough to fall against the balcony door. ''Fuck you! Fuck you!'' he yelled and looked at his bloody hand. He fixed his blazer and looked at Hermione's crying, shocked face. ''Everything is his fault.'' he said as if he was trying to tell her something different, something that his mind was not wanting to remember. He looked at her embarrassed. He grabbed a shield bottle of firewhiskey and left.

* * *

December 2002

His thumb was putting gentle pressure to the healed now cut on his palm. He was trying hard to remember when was the last time he seen her, it surely couldn't be the day of the wedding, could it? And how beautiful she was that day, she had that smile on her face, the kind she used to have when she was happy and well, Merlin how many heads had turned to ogle her that evening. If his heart wouldn't belong to someone else, he might have found himself drowning to her charm, but no, she was his friend and his friend was finally happy after all those year she spent in a haze, trying to find out who she is, away from her family, away from her old self. Maybe that was the reason why he didn't mind it that much, her missing that is. She looked at peace when he last saw her and it brought peace to his heart too.

He looked at Harry and Harry looked at him. He had that sorrow in his eyes, the kind he always had from the moment Ginny passed away. Cowardly he extended his hand and put it on his shoulder. Words couldn't be spoken at that moment. He only knew how he was feeling, because he was feeling the very same thing as well.

What if he cursed him too many times the past months, what if he told him he didn't want to be his friend anymore, he was here, with him, drinking their pain away as if they shared the very same thoughts. Harry was drunk, Ron was starting to be, and drunk was the only thing they could be together for now on. Ron ran his hand through his hair, they were longer than the beginning of the year and had a much lighten colour at the ends. He didn't mind it, Ginny had joked about it, saying he looked like her - he wanted to, even if they were not much alike, he wanted to be as fierceful as her one day.

Harry put some pressure on the bridge of his nose, that was his _imma-cry_ signal. He was so fucking guiltful it almost gave him the desire to slap him right in the face, maybe make one of his eyes change colour. He knew Harry would carry on and put the blame on himself about Hermione's missing, he knew he would keep pushing emotions and feelings until it would be too late. He wanted to tell him it was not his fault, but he couldn't. Deep down Harry knew it wasn't, as did Ron, who he might have taken advantage of that last offer the now Minister gave and spoke too many times the fake reality that made her snap and leave.

It was nobody's fault, not even Draco Malfoy's who started it. Because if they wanted to be honest with themselves, those years Hermione spent in a haze, those four years she was trying to find her past, missing her family and acting based on her heart, Harry and Ron found out that Hermione was not just a friend who would stand by them through sickness and pain, who would support them through well and richness, who would encourage them to seek their truth - no, she was much more than a friend, she was a sister, she was a person who always believed in them.

''She will come back. She has to come back.'' Ron said and looked at his ironic smile. What if they lied to her? Couldn't she find the strength in her heart and forgive them? Or will she stay hidden forever, wishing to have nothing else in common with the people she loved the most?


	5. The Truth

_a/n_ Thank you all for your love! I hope the new year finds you along with family and dear friends.

Take care, Γ

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Truth

_May Fifth 2002_

_Independent Experimental Wing, Downtown Wizarding London_

The muscles of her legs were burning. People were looking at her funny, frowned faces of colleagues she used to greet every morning as she was walking the long corridor to reach the elevators, now simply seemed insignificant as passing them by, having no idea how to use her mouth and politely practice the word _hello_ this morning. Her hair was playing with the wind, some curled locks even tangled with others creating one single lock. If she could stop for a moment and see herself in the huge long mirror-alike wall placed on the right of the corridor, along with some living statues of great wizarding ancestors, she might have liked that messy but slightly girly look. Although the only noticeable thing for her was the sweat coming down her spine, sticking her shirt on her back like a glue.

''Good morning, Miss Granger.'' a young man who just started to work for the Experimental Wing greeted her and she rushingly nodded, there was no time for this, there was no time for anything else except an end; an end she knew pretty well she deserved - but him?_ Him?_

The idea of Draco Malfoy cracking the riddle of the experiment she was working on for all this time simply gathered all the frustration in the world and placed it in her tired, confused mind. Without knowing, her lips had curled ever the slightest - she will have time to think about it later, ''Miss Granger your mail!'' a woman stood from her seat behind a desk full of floors' numbers and slots, wanting to catch her attention but failed. She called her again, but she cared little about the mail, either the surprised faces of the rest of the staff in this Wing. She made a hard turn, almost losing her balance, ''Watch it there!'' a training Healer had gripped her arm, keeping her to her feet, moments before she met the floor.

''Thanks.'' she mumbled, not paying attention to his handsome face, but cursing as the waiting line to the elevators were longer than any other time. She cursed her luck this time, wishing she had arrived earlier - another smile curled her lips, no, today was a blessing, she wouldn't change anything. Her legs didn't stop, leading her to the staircases, where the walls were decorated with fine art, one could simply stand and stare, lost between the colours and the shapes, the longing in some and the pain in others, but she, she just ran by them, forgetting their existence and climbing the staircase as if it was a portkey to heaven.

The muscles of her legs were burning, but she didn't care at all. In her heart there was a flood, a boiling flood erasing every past year and offering her a salvation. There was courage and a redemption of every single lie she had been told by anyone. There was a pride, an unbearable one, forcing her to move faster to her ultimate fantasy, her knowledge.

Her name was written on the door of her lab, on the ninth floor of the building. She left to stare at it and only it, as the big capital calligraphic letters decorating the white door were getting bigger with every new step. Her legs stopped her at once and her arms tightened their hold around her precious folder. The pounding in her chest simply created a veil of impatience - what will happen after she finds out the truth? What if she learns something that was meant to be unknown? She had to order her arm to fall from her hug and touch the knob of her door. What if her big revolutionary recovery potion simply points out what she has been told all those years? Wouldn't it make her a fool in front of her friends? Is she a fool for not trusting them? Someone once told her that the truth meant to be unseeked in order to focus on recovery; maybe she was betting her own authenticity - her hand tightened around the knob as if her life was depending on it.

The previous fear spreaded like autumn leaves on a windy day in her mind, but not in her heart - in her heart she was sure, she was absolutely sure. A familiar smirk blocked her whole thinking - damn him.

A distant sound of the bottle rocket bibbing three times made her heart skip a beat. The samples she put yesterday was ready to use. She opened the door, closing it rushingly and the folder fell from her hands, spreading numerous of papers on the floor creating a carpet. She looked at them, then the samples, ''Okay.'' she encouraged herself, going to the counter and taking one in her hands. Her eyes scanned the room, remembering the dried peppermint leaf she had on her desk - cowardly she walked there, watching it resting among written parchments, an empty frame, her forgotten watch and the used quill. A smile decorated her lips, taking the leaf.

She turned around, leaving her bag to fall from her torso to the floor - her hands were full, one holding the flask, the other the leaf. She let them on top of the metal table in the middle of the lab. ''Okay.'' she said to herself again, this time throwing the leaf into the liquid, watching it being absorbed beautifully. A gasp escaped her lips and she rolled the flask, watching the perfectly see-through mix turning into a perfect thick white liquid, almost reminding of melted liquid - she frowned, emptying it all to her mouth as if it was a tequila shot.

She licked her lips, waiting to taste something, but that was hardly the case here. She used to feel instant pain or discomfort every time she was testing a new potion but now, she felt nothing. ''Fuck you Malfoy.'' she mumbled, turning around to see her perfect reflection on the glassed door separating her lab from her office, how could she ever think of him, offering a solution to her problem? Her hands rose to put her hair in a low ponytail, ordering herself to clean the mess she had made with the rolled over parchments. She ordered herself to move, but she kept staring at her reflection. She felt tired, dizzy - as if she had to sleep for a long, long time. Her hand rested against the metal table wanting to hold on something - her chest hurt, it seemed as if her heart forgot how to beat, as if she was dead inside. Brown eyes focused on the reflection of hers, she looked pale, and she was cold - too cold and too pale. Everything around her froze, _''Midnight. Mom always says midnight.''_ she frowned at the hearing of his voice. The need to see the familiar face of her friend faded away as her heart pounded slower and slower in her chest. _''Don't touch her!''_ it was not her own reflection she was watching anymore, this time it was someone else, someone who could recognize if she could see clearly - but she couldn't, her watery eyes blinked and let out her last breath. _''Get Draco. Draco!'' _ Her knees touched the floor, a much familiar coldness than she intended to find greeted her like old friends. _''Repeat it.''_ a weak voice echoed in her ears. _''Repeat it Granger! Repeat it!''_ it ordered her, and her still sweated torso fell on the floor.

_''Repeat it!''_

* * *

_1998_

''Snatch them.'' his voice challenged them to fight, but this time they wouldn't. His hungry eyes scanned her face, every inch of it, every small detail - he didn't care to memorize it, he didn't care to admire it, he only craved it, wishing he could put his hands on her and maybe, who could stop him, have his way with her, who else would have turned this chance down, mudblood and all.

''Don't touch her!'' Ron's tall body fell on the ground, still trapped inside the robes they created. She wanted to go to him, to set him free, to see if he was okay, maybe take some of his courage and treasure it in her heart for later, but Harry's single eye fell on her in a way that could only translate to no. She bit the inside of her cheek, keeping her temper calm and thinking it would all end soon. It had to.

''Little boyfriend here is mad?'' he sarcastically rose a brow, wanting to hide the smirk on his face but failed. ''Doesn't even matter really. Where we goin' you'll hardly survive.'' he said and winked at her.

xUx

Her arm was hurting. His grip around it was so tight, he could almost feel her heart pounding against it, and with every step, with every new step that brought them closer to the gate surrounded by long gardens with living bushes and perfectly green coloured grass, his grip tightened even more. She knew he was scared, so was she.

Harry was in front them, prisoned in the hands of the silly dressed man with the ridiculous hair. His face was still kept swelling and she knew it would take a while to start healing - they did need the time between.

She felt her heart beating faster than before and her eyes fell upon the woman behind the gates, watching the pushed against the ironed doors face of the boy who had ravishing green eyes but a scar on his forehead. Hermione's eyes looked at her shoes, some mud had created a thin layer of dust on top of them, and her heart beat fastened even more. She didn't dare to raise her gaze. She didn't dare to see the woman in black. The man loosened his grip and Hermione frowned, cowardly raising her gaze to see a pleased look in the crazy eyes of the curled haired witch. ''Get Draco.'' she almost whispered and Hermione could practically feel her heart tearing her chest apart.

ΛVΛ

''Look closer Draco. Look closer.'' Lucius said and put his free hand on his son's neck, pushing him closer to the swelling face of the boy sitting in front of him. He leaned towards him, placing his head next to Draco's. ''Think Draco.'' he ordered and his alcohol smelling breath reached his son's nose. ''All of our sins will be forgotten if you just say who he is'' his father tightened his hold around his son's neck.

''What is wrong with his face.'' he wanted to ask, but there was no courage in him anymore, either was any in his eyes as they were scanning his dysmorphic features, stopping only when he met his one good eye. His heart beat fast. He knew who he was. He knew it was Potter. The tight grip of his father bothered him more than any other time. The idea of reading his mind made his stomach turn into a knot - he had fought too hard too many times to keep everyone away from his head since he was twelve years old - his father leaned closer and he tried to set himself free but Lucius only hurt him more. His stomach twisted making the peppermint tea seek an exit. A burden burned his shoulders and he only wished to disappear from this place. He couldn't be here any loner, he shouldn't be here.

The thin posture of his mother made him regret his thinking.

''He says he picked something from the forest.'' the man who was holding Hermione said, and Draco met her eyes.

Hermione Granger. He had to see her for so long, it felt like ages ago when they were sharing the same classes, when he was watching her name in the first place and his in second in the Leaderboard - gone was the girl with the fiery eyes, the one who was too smart for her own sake, the one who could put anyone in his place without saying too many words. Gone was the girl who once wore the dress and combed her hair in a way that no other girl had ever seen. Gone was the girl who had a sparkling living fire in her heart, roaring louder as the days past by. Now she looked different - there was a regret in her eyes, which he thought it was for her presence in his house, there was no smart talk-backs, no fierceful comments, no head-turning dress. There was no fire, not even a small flame in her eyes, no hope or courage. She was empty, like her skinny legs, colorless like her once unblemished skin, she was tired and afraid. She was scared. He could feel it. And he was too.

He was too looked empty to her eyes. He used to have an aura of prestige and power that none of the other Purebloods used to show off as delicately as Draco Malfoy. He used to have a certain vibe, one could simply stand and stare like old art. He used to have a spoiled hand, an expensive taste that only grew out of the shadow of the richest family in the Wizarding World. Now he looked damaged, broken by needs and deaths, by blood and claws, now the only thing connected to his once shining self was the expensive fabric of his suit covering his thin, tall body, that once was lean and caused girls to sigh, and his silver hair, his always backwards-combed silver hair that no one was allowed to touch. There was no power, no prestige in his eyes anymore, he might have found out how little can someone with a certain name and galleons do when it was the war banging the door. He looked mature in his sadness, and alone.

She looked at him with that beautiful brown eyes, trying to tell him something, but before he could understand, his father tightened his grip harder than any other time, making him look at Harry again.

''Give me her wand!'' the crazy witch commanded, and she extended her hand. ''I'll see what spell cast last!'' Bellatrix laughed, ''I know what your play is. Just think what the Dark Lord will say when he sees who we have here.'' she pointed at Harry with her wand, widening her eyes once and feeling her patience running thin as Harry's eye travelled to her sister. Narcissa's steady walking lead her to Draco, who stood on his feet and met Hermione's eyes again - she looked relieved, not that it meant something to him. His mother grabbed his skeleton hand and pushed him behind her. ''Cissy.'' Bellatrix's hair had framed her face more. Only one step had taken towards the mother and son, but her violent gaze remained threatened. The wand in her hand pointed at them and with a sigh she spoke again, ''Cissy, I would never hurt Draco.'' a weird smile shown on her face. ''Not truly that is.''

Draco shivered. He was afraid of her, as was his mother, but mostly, his father. Draco had seen him once wiping his cheeks with the handkerchief his grandfather Abraxas gave him with his initials - he had asked himself how much courage he was putting for their sake, how good his poker face was, how much he was feared by the people he once dared to follow, to believe in. With the corner of his eye, he saw his father tightening his grip around his glass and not his wand. It was safe for him to say he was behaving like a coward, like a fucking muppet having no desire to save his proud family as the strings were tangled hard around his neck, leaving nothing else than sorrow and shame to accompany his name for as long as he shall live.

The light bathing the room blinded his grey eyes before falling upon something shining, something that caught Bellatrix's attention. ''What do you have there.'' her voice was as low as before, almost reminding the voice of a girl who had just woken up. ''Where on Merlin's hell you found this?'' she yelled, taking rushed and wide steps towards the man holding the sword.

''It fell from her.'' the man pushed Hermione forward, making her kneel in front of the black clothed witch.

''Did you steal from me?'' she asked, watching her stooped head. ''A mudbrood?'' she yelled, this time ordering the snatcher to hold her on her feet. ''A mudblood stole from me? Me?'' she waved her wand at the man behind Hermione, making her gasp and close her eyes in time to miss the flipped man falling down from the staircases and cracking his head open in the first floor. ''You filthy bitch!'' her wand was now pointed at Hermione. She felt her breathing fasten. ''How you managed to take the sword?'' she put her wand under Hermione's chin. ''Answer me!''

''I didn't steal anything!'' she spoke with a shaken voice, feeling her whole body shivering under her watchful eyes. ''Please, I didn't steal anything.'' she tried hard to calm her beating heart, but she couldn't. She knew what she meant for people like her, she knew how they see her, how they feel for her, how they wished she was dead. The image of the shining chandelier focused on her watery eyes - the wand was pressed against her neck and she only wished she was not here.

Bellatrix took a step away from her, decorating her face with a disgusting smirk. Her breath caught up her chest and she met his grey eyes again. He looked afraid, but this time it was not a fear for his own self, it was for her, and she knew it. His tightened jaw popped out of his starved face, sculpturing the features even more - talks of girls in the corridors of Hogwarts echoed in her ears, they were gossiping non stop about him and his lickable jaw line, his picky taste and shy character. How sad it was to see him losing that persona, how sad it was to see the same pain in his dark circled eyes, the same defeat, the same loneliness and need to run away.

How differently alike were they?

The mad witch pointed the wand to one of the snatchers choking the life out of him and tossing the dead body down the staircases to meet his fellow worker. Harry screamed something, Ron did too. But she didn't move a muscle. She just kept watching him, wanting to tell him something she didn't know what it was. The laughter from her lips didn't bother her. Her victory dance for the adding number of her kills didn't manage to snap her out of her thinking.

''To the cellar!'' she yelled to Pettigrew and he rushed to take a bow. ''No, not her.'' Bellatrix rested her eyes on her, blocking Draco. ''We will have a chat, she and I. A girl to girl conversation.'' she walked in a slow circle around her, and Hermione found the chance to point the sword to Draco using only her eyes, as her frozen limps were shivering under his gaze, missing the way his mother's eyes fell on it too.

Her crooked wand was pointing at Hermione. She lowered her eyes, guessing what she might do to her. The thin layer of mud was still covering his shoes. She should be ashamed, she should be feeling an outsider in the weird company of all those wizards and witches, but instead of wanted to leave, she felt peaceful. He had chosen to act on her say. She wanted to smile at him, to encourage him, to say everything will be alright, because for the first time in years she was certain it will be - ''Crusio!'' she cast and a vibrating wave shook her whole body, making her fell on the floor, her knees brushing at once. ''Crusio!'' she pointed at the shaking body of Hermione and she fought hard not to fall on her side and hit her head. She should have taken her eyes off him and forget the calmness he provided, but she didn't, and she didn't want to know why she didn't. The witch laughed and laughed, dancing around the pained body of the young girl and pointed her wand at her again. ''Crusio!'' she laughed as she spelled, and she lost whatever power she had left the moment he shut his eyes. ''What else did you take from me?'' she asked sitting on top of her. Her hand grabbed her neck, making her see her. She started to choke her, making her legs protest and her hands wrap around her wrist. ''Say little Muggle, and I promise, I won't hurt you.. much.'' she rested her body on top of her more, whispering the words coming out of her mouth.

''I didn't take anything.'' she tried to defend herself, and Bellatrix let her neck, finding please in her cough. ''I say the truth.'' she felt her eyes filling with tears. ''Please.'' she begged, but she knew she will not going to leave her.

''Crusio!'' she cast again and Hermione screamed on top of her lungs, feeling her insides pushed together, her lungs glued at each other making every breath painful. ''Crusio!'' she laughed as the spell hit Hermione, who tried to grab her from the sides, maybe push her off her, maybe fight back, but Bellatrix moved fast, taking her wrists in her hands and pushing them down. ''Crusio!'' she cast with a calmer voice this time filled of adoration for this world.

Hermione yelled again, this time feeling like claws scratching her whole body, tearing her flesh apart and destroying her whole torso with slowly burning fire. She bent her back. ''Please.'' she spoke between screams, begging to a God she never met to give her strength - she heard Bellatrix casting another Unforgivable curse. An electrifying shake vibrated her spine. Her back bent again, and tears fell down her cheeks, creating a salted lake on each side of her face.

She heard Bellatrix laughing, and clapping her hands, never leaving from on top of her, never letting her wrists free, making Hermione question exactly how much body power the witch had. ''Pity, pretty, pity, pretty, how I enjoy your screamy lippy.'' she whispered in her ear as her wand travelled across her bottom lip, making Hermione sob soundless, her chest hurting from the weight of the woman. She met his eyes and he took a step back - her complexion was ashened. Her once radiating, unblemished skin was left lifeless on top of the marble of his home, giving the impression of a sick vessel, of someone dead inside. A tear traced her cheek and he tightened his jaw.

Bellatrix rose her sleeve, watching her pale skin with a challenging eye. She placed both hands on her exposed arm, tightening her legs around her torso more, wishing she could break her ribs. She wanted to raise her hand and grab her, fight her, protest, but she couldn't. Her legs were sore, her arms were stiff. She was feeling cold, hurt, but she was calm. His eyes were on her. And hers on him. She didn't know why he was looking at her, she didn't know if he was taking any kind of pleasant feedback out of her tortured body, but he was looking at her as if he was wishing to be the one being tortured.

The insane woman played the wand in her fingers like a maestro. She held it like a pen. She lowered her whole torso. She smiled on her herself, starting to carve the very first letter of the word she loved to spit on, ''Stop.'' Draco's voice sounded without warning and Bellatrix turned her head to see him, right before she could finish the M.

Her lips curved and looked behind perfectly curled locks. ''Do you want to do it, Draco?'' there was a pride in her eyes, one no one had seen in her in years, one she only used to ogle Voldemort with it. He wasn't speaking. He wasn't taking his eyes off his aunt. She stepped on her feet at once, stretching her thighs as she ran her wand to Hermione's torso. She started to walk towards him and before he could think twice about what he had stopped her for, she placed a hand around his torso, resting her head on his arm and watching from afar the picture of the suffering girl. ''Watch how she shakes like a fish without water.'' she whispered and pointed her wand at her lying against the floor tired body. ''Crusio!'' she cursed and Hermione yelled again, her heart almost stopped pounding this time. Draco placed his hand on top of hers, stopping her. He found himself shivering under the way of her voice now sounded. ''Wouldn't it be fun to kill her together?'' she spoke with excitement, with an amusement in her eyes, making him wonder how sick she was, how sick he might be if he kept being around those poisoned people.

The future self of a man who feared everything greeted him from afar. He looked miserable, unhappy with himself and with everything around him. His eyes were judging and his lips into a constant pout, having only wrinkles of old days, not one was a laughing wrinkle, not one was meant to be placed from a happy memory. The future self of that man looked at his aunt with admiration. He was holding a walking stick like his father. Draco felt a breeze in his heart. He couldn't understand what was happening in his head these days, maybe it was from the articles he was reading, maybe it was from the Muggle books his mother had locked in the closet room on the third floor under some spells that were easy to break, maybe it was from the hours he spent thinking about what had happened, what he have done, how he could have acted differently. How many people will be still alive if he wasn't that coward, if his father, the man he used to look up to, didn't poison himself with empty words. He looked at the lifeless coloured eyes of Hermione and his heart skipped a bit. He didn't want to be that person. He didn't want to be hated.

A whole step taken and he looked at his aunt. ''No.'' Draco said, feeling his father's hand on his neck again, stopping him from taking another step and finding himself next to Hermione Granger. He squeezed him hard two times, making him see over his shoulder.

''He means yes, Bella.'' Lucius spoke for the first time in minutes, revealing himself from the shadows of his shame and watching at Draco with meaningful eyes.

''Do you believe Dark Lord would mind about a Muggle in our home, or about a stealing in your secured vault, Aunt?'' he pointed the last word, knowing it would be the very first time he ever called her like this. ''Torturing a lower like herself is hardly pleasable when evidence of stealing appeared.'' he walked towards the sword and took it in his hand, noticing how heavy it was. It almost made him frown. He pretended to be fascinated by it and his aunt. He pretended to be willing to sacrifice that very little advantage his family had in the eyes of the Dark Lord. ''What if the golbins have aroused against you, Aunt? Against our noble cause?'' he pretended to be unsure of how much troubled thinking he was creating in her mind as his old manipulated Slytherin self gushed from the ashes. He stood next to her, not facing Granger. ''Precious things are trusted to your vault, Aunt.'' he spoke and walked to her other side, ''Precious things our Lord trusted you with.'' he slightly rose a brow to Hermione as the pointed out words meant only one thing.

She blinked once, and he took his grey eyes away in time to meet his aunt. She was battling with herself and Draco loved it. In his eyes one could see the old flame of his old self, the dominant one. He knew she wouldn't defy his words, so he innocently scanned the sword, keeping himself busy as the burning eyes of his aunt were tossing flames to the young heir. ''Bring me the goblin!'' she yelled and practically ran towards Pettigrew, pushing him towards the stairs.

Draco rushed to steal a glance from her as a new tear ran down her cheek, meeting the cold floor. He might have tried to take a step towards her, but he didn't, not because he didn't want to, but because his father's hand tightened around his neck again, ''What are you doing?'' he questioned and Draco tightened his grip around the sword, wanting to push the blade inside of him and end everything he ever started, and why not end his own life with it too.

And he met her eyes. She was still on the floor, her arm still exposed, her eyes still stuck to him. She knew he was miserable. He knew she was hurting. She looked at him and a weak flame of hope warmed her eyes. He looked at her and his mind focused into one order; survival.

''Why weren't you doing your job?'' she scratched his cheek, making him mad even though he didn't show it.

''There is no safer place than Gringotts!'' he tried to defend his workplace, only to feel the point of her crooked wand against his small torso.

''Apparently not.'' Narcissa's voice echoed in the room and her sister turned her head to see her. She fixed her hair in a way only she could and focused her attention on the party in front of her. ''Wouldn't be a surprise if the goblin tricked the keeper? What else might he give away to others?'' she looked at Bellatrix and walked next to her son, placing a hand on his shoulder. ''I wonder what the Dark Lord might say about this betrayal.'' she carefully added, feeling her heart beating fast enough when her sister's eyes fell upon her.

''I will not be looked like a fool in front of my Lord!'' she angrily yelled, hitting her feet hard on the floor like a whining girl, who's candy has been taken. She tightened her jaw and pressed her lips together.

''Of course not Bella. We will never allow this to happen.'' Narcissa reassured her. ''I say we let them all in the cellar, wait for the Dark Lord to come - ''

''Consider yourself lucky goblin.'' Bellatrix ran her knife around his face, widening more the wound on his cheek. ''The same won't be said for you.'' she stepped on her naked arm, crushing her three last fingers.

''Like hell!'' Ron yelled and ran towards them, only to fall from a spell Narcissa cast. Harry rushed to go to him, but Draco stopped him. He had forgotten about them for a second.

''The wands Draco!'' Bellatrix shouted, and he lost his thinking for a second. He didn't want to do it, but his mother pushed him towards it, and he frowned, rushing to collect them. He walked fast in one of the armchairs and left the sword with the wands in a rather visible place, making sure Harry show it. He watched his father fighting with the alcohol in his blood to concentrate on the simplest task to hold his wand and not the glass of wine mixed with firewhiskey, something he was drinking non stop since he came back from Azkaban.

He grabbed his wand from his walking stick, throwing his glass with the move and splitting smelly alcohol on the floor, as his surprised eyes fell at Bellatrix, holding the petite body of Hermione Granger, one hand tangled in her hair, pushing her head back, the other holding a knife to her throat, some blood falling to the blade colouring it. ''Look what we have here.'' she pushed her head backwards even more. ''It's Harry Potter!'' she whispered in her ear, making her cry a little. Draco looked around him in an attempt to find a way and stop what was about to happen, but before he could look every single person in the room, his eyes fell on Dobby, _Dobby_, he thought and his eyes met his. He looked at the chandelier, then Dobby, then the chandelier again. Dobby frowned, and Draco pointed at it with his head, his eyes slightly widened.

''Call him!'' she ordered Lucius, who walked past his son and to the middle of the party, raising up with pride his sleeve for them all to see.

A sigh escaped Hermione's lips when she saw Dobby undoing the chandelier while whistling. She felt the blade cutting her flesh even more, but it hardly mattered at the moment. The chandelier was falling, slowly, too slowly, and suddenly she was watching a movie - she was standing under the chandelier, feeling every single feeling of every single soul in the room. Bellatrix was angry because she could get killed. Narcissa Malfoy was scared, not for her sister, but for Hermione Granger, knowing how it would look like if she died in their house. Lucius Malfoy was confused, Ron was scared for Hermione, Harry was left to wonder, because he saw Draco pointing the chandelier to Dobby, and Draco, he was relieved, and even if he was at the edge of collapsing, feeling the muscles of his legs weak, too weak, he did it. He ran.

Bellatrix pushed her away, and Draco ran to her. One hand curled around her waist, the other protected the back of her head, his lips mumbled something she only could hear as his eyes never left from her. And the chandelier was falling. And her heart just beat calmly. She looked at him, she smelled him, but she couldn't speak what he was casting. She blinked once and the image of his grey eyes memorized in her fading away memory only to be forgotten within the next blink. Her lips fell apart, as if she was waiting for an internal kiss. ''Repeat it Granger! Repeat it!'' he rushingly talked, pieces of diamonds falling to his back, scratching the expensive fabric of his suit, and some his flesh as they found entrance from the brim of his shirt. ''Repeat it!'' he ordered with a bit more need.

''_Tueri, tuta esse_.'' her eyes focus on his, and his eyes focus on her. His thumb caressed the back of her head, her smell trapped in his big hand. She seemed relaxed, calm. He felt Weasley's hand pushing him away, but he had already given her to him. She might have mumbled no, trying to hold on to him, but no one cared to listen to her. And the chandelier fell, crashing down Draco Malfoy, who didn't reach the end Weasley and his friends stood.

She mumbled again, she might have put on a small fight, but she couldn't do much, she couldn't find the strength to stand on her own, to walk at him, to see if he is alright. ''No.'' Narcissa yelled at once, running towards the fallen chandelier, watching her son bleeding from his nose and right ear. ''You killed him!'' she yelled and looked at Dobby. ''You killed him! Draco!'' she ran to him, her knees bleeding on top of the broken diamonds. ''Murderer!'' she yelled on top of her lungs, breaking every heart in the room.

''Dobby didn't mean harm - '' he tried to walk towards the crying mother, but Harry stopped him, curling his hand on his arm.

''You killed the Malfoy heir! A slave!'' Bellatrix shouted and waken Lucius from the Stupefy spell Harry cast before. The image of his son froze him, the screams of his wife snapped him out of the delirious. He took his wife's wand, pointing at the elf.

''Avada - '' Lucius spoke, but her wand fell from his hands and ran to Dobby's. ''No!'' he protested, watching them gathering together. He wanted to scream how unfair that was, but he saw his son's eyes opening and Narcissa took a big breath, trying to move the heavy chandelier.

The knife flew towards them, disappearing from their sight.

ΛVΛ

Her skin felt itchy. Water was licking her face and even if she was lying on the cold wet sand, she felt dizzy, her stomach giving the impression of a living being. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to empty her lungs of the intoxicating smell of Draco Malfoy - but as fast as the need appeared in her mind, it disappeared like snow on a sunny day, making her miss something she didn't know what it was. Someone was calling her name, someone was shaking her shoulders. She tried hard to open her eyes, she tried hard to focus on one task, but she failed. She was drifting, far away, fast enough, drifting too soon, too slow, hearing everything, thinking everything, noticing everything, but she couldn't bear anything. So she just laid back, allowing the water to clean every single bad thought, wash off every painful memory. She shouldn't have done it, but she did, there was a force coercing her to do so.

''Hermione, Hermione you are safe now.'' someone said and she just breathed, letting her mind clear up. He lifted her, resting her head on his lap fearing the worse. He watered his hands, clearing the sand off her face. He was talking, he was telling something to someone.

''She might have something in her bag, where is your bag Hermione? Help me!'' Harry's voice sounded needed. She wanted to wake up, she wanted to help him, but she couldn't.

'' .. his dear friend, Harry Potter.'' she heard Dobby's voice, and she knew he died.

''Hermione?'' someone was calling her, but she didn't care to answer.

ΛVΛ

''Hawthorn, unicorn hair, 10 inches.'' his tired voice was making her spine shiver. He was holding the wand closer to his ear, frowning for some seconds before running his fingers up and down its length, wondering something he only knew off. She forced herself to concentrate on his words, but she couldn't - her eyes were examining the old wizard trying to keep the memory of her parents next to her as she first stepped on his store, asking for her wand. He had smiled to her kindly, telling how much she is going to love the Wizarding World - well, right now she fucking hated it - ''It belonged to Draco Malfoy.'' he spoke and snapped her out of her thinking. She looked at Harry. He had the most concerned look on his face.

He was not taking his eyes away from the old wizard. ''Isn't still?'' he didn't know why, but Ollivander looked rather disappointed in him.

''I sense, well, let's say its alliance change.'' he said to them and nodded once. ''Although,'' he frowned again, placing the wand closer to his ear. ''The unicorn hair, no, it cannot be - ''

''What? What is wrong with the unicorn hair?'' Hermione rushed to ask and they both looked at her. She was not talking, she was not sharing her thoughts, either her feelings from the moment they apparated to Fleur's and Bill's. She swallowed hard, feeling the slowly healing cut on her throat itching. They offered to call a Healer, but she said no. That wound, that pain, it was the only reminder of what had happened, of what she had left with - there was nothing in the world to replace that wound, that feeling, there was nothing in the world to replace him. She had ordered herself not to sleep, whenever she was sleeping, she was losing a small part of her experience. Whenever she let herself relax, she was forgetting, and right now, right this very moment, she couldn't forget, at least not him.

The old wizard watched her tired eyes. He wanted to ask how was she feeling, but whoever asked her that question took nothing in response. He was feeling sad about her, he might be even feel pity, a small shame maybe. Her challenging eyes were on him and colding his whole spine with their look. She was expecting an answer, not his apologize. ''The hair it has been used. Isolated, like a spell, or maybe a curse.'' he let a deep breath out, offering the wand at Harry.

''How is that even possible?'' she took some steps, covering her impressed face with a veil of concern and suspicion. She took the wand from him, watching its fine cut against her hand.

Ollivander smirked. ''Nothing is impossible.''

ΛVΛ

The cold water covered her whole body, making those vomiting black clothes stuck on her. Her lungs were full of air that now were forming small bubbles, elaborating towards the surface, creating vibrations that soon might reach the ones Ron and Harry made. She opened her eyes under the water, watching their bodies reaching the surface and taking clean, deep breaths. She felt envy. She felt alone. They could find their way up to the world of the living when she could just wanted to stay hidden in the world of the dead, praying to a God, she never met, to open the gates of heaven and let her in, let her stay there where, she could guess, it will be cozy and warm, filled with smiles and kind hugs, happy people and loved ones, not like those waters, not like this world. She closed her eyes and felt her body deepen slowly into the wet abyss she called salvation. She let herself relax in the cold water, putting no fight in wanting her life in the upper world, putting no fight into trying to keep the memory of him alive in her mind. She let herself relax and calm down like she never did before. She was exhausted, the cold waters felt warmer that moment, she just needed to find some peace, away from everyone, from everything. She might have asked for forgiveness that very second, but she couldn't have it, she couldn't forgive, she couldn't even feel. Everything was cold and lonely, she didn't know why she was creating this void in her heart, she didn't know why she wanted to be forgotten all of the sudden. Her eyes opened wide and she saw the water above her, grey clouds were covering the sky. She let her final breath create another bubble and she said to herself it was alright, it was safe, she can go somewhere else, where she will not be feeling this lonely, where she will embrace that void and maybe find the thing she's missing. She looked at the grey clouds, so familiar, so needed, she wanted to touch them, to feel them, to treasure them - she closed her eyes trying hard to keep a pair of grey eyes in her mind, but failed. She now found her heart missing several beats. Why was she under the water? Why was she not fighting to reach the surface? Something was missing, something had managed to get away - why wouldn't she think straight anymore? She can't escape the world of the living, not until she finds what she is missing. Her feet touched the very bottom and she pushed herself up, finding the surface and taking a big breath. She has work to do.

ΛVΛ

''Not my girlfriend you assholes!'' he yelled and ran behind them, leaving her alone in the decorated with multiple furnitures corner, smiling to herself for only a second before her lips turned back to normal, as did her feelings, as did her blank mind.

She kissed him and for a second she felt as if she was her old self. She kissed him and for a brief moment she felt something, which was great, but didn't last. She wanted it to last, she needed it to last, but it didn't. And it burned her heart, feeding the spreading nothingness which found shelter in her. She desperately needed to last, and it bothered her when it didn't.

She watched him running towards her screaming _fire_. Those idiots started a fire in the Room of Requirement. And the running begin and she promised herself she would never run again. Ron stepped over some brooms. Hell no. She found herself riding one and then she saw him, trying hard to keep himself safe from the roaring flames beneath. She could practically taste the sweat on his forehead, feel the burn on his feet. The idea of leaving him behind made her stomach turn into a knot - why? Without knowing it, her hands ordered the broom to make a hard turn. ''Hermione!'' Ron yelled, but she cared little at the moment. ''What's she doing?'' he asked Harry, who followed her lead.

''We can't leave them here!''

''If we die for them, I will kill you Harry!'' Ron yelled and turned his broom, following them.

He watched Hermione ahead, extended her hand to Draco Malfoy. He missed his chance and when Ron found his place behind her, trying to rescue the silvered haired wizard she turned around fast, never losing her concentration and as if she was a pro Quiddtich player, she kept her balance on the broom in one hand, extended her other to him, grabbing and pulling him on her broom. She felt his shaking hands on her sides and it was like he electrified her - she lost her concentration, finding the nearest flames and passing through them. ''Careful!'' he placed his arm to the right of the her face, feeling the fire burning down the fabric of his expensive suit, reaching to his pale skin, making him scream. She turned her head to see him, losing her concentration and he acted fast, grabbing the broom with his free hand.

She gasped as some of the skin around his wrist had been burned off. ''No.'' she mumbled.

''Give me your wand!'' he ordered and she gave him her wand, hearing him casting a wind spell, blowing away every flame in front of them. Her lips turned into a small curl, meeting Harry with Blaise Zabini and Ron.

The gates opened wide for them, spitting them out. She felt her body turning around and falling from the broom moments before he falls as well. Her back hurt as she met the floor. He made a sound, reminding of a wounded animal. ''No.'' she mumbled again and crawled to him. ''You have to stand!'' she ordered when she met his eyes. ''You have to leave!'' he nodded, meeting her eyes. ''Now!'' she ordered him, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. She was looking at him relieved, not because they escaped, because she was seeing him. She might have smiled to him ever the slightest, but he could never be sure because of his dizziness. He placed his hand on the floor, feeling his shoulder hurting. Some blood traced down his face, colouring up the hairline on his forehead. Blaise was laying unconscious when he found him. Draco knelt next to him, apparating moments before Harry could destroy the tiara.

ΛVΛ

She walked down the Great Hall. Her legs were sore and her arms were hurting even if she was not using them - she was hungry. The desire to eat was making her stomach sound. It was the only thing that felt normal this moment - people she had once seen walking around those great halls were now around her, speaking slowly, holding hands or sitting in groups, feeling their loneliness rising if they spent it alone. People she once talked or helped study, people she liked, people she called family. There was nothing left to do here anymore.

There was nothing left for her to fear, there was no problem she wouldn't face with a brave heart and a clear mind. She could finally relax, she could finally calm down. A sigh escaped from her lips. She stood still in the middle of the Great Hall, it was done, wasn't it. Another sigh and her back straightened - she could finally rest.

A small pain in her head made her put some pressure with her palm. She made a sound, hearing a high pitch noise. ''Hey.'' Harry was standing next to her, ''Are you okay?'' he asked and she put both hands on her head putting pressure. Her stomach turned into a knot.

''I - I don't - ''

''Ron! Help!'' Harry yelled and put an arm on her torso only to shout as her skin reminded refrigerator. ''Help!'' he yelled again, watching her losing her once reddness on her cheeks and turning pale.

''_Tueri, tuta esse_.'' she mumbled, hearing it only herself. She fell on her knees, her eyes turning blank, and if she would remember it, she would have thanked Harry, who rushed to put his hand on her head and prevent her for cracking her head open.

* * *

_Twenty Fifth of May, 2002_

_Independent __Experimental Wing, Downtown Wizarding London_

The knock on the door made her blink her dry eyes and take a deep breath, feeling her lungs unstucking. She coughed, soundless, letting out of her mouth a dusty breath like the one she used to make on the window of her house when she was a little girl, waiting awake to see the man in red, the magic being who gave asked presents. Her mother would have knocked her door, asked her to fall asleep, which she never did, as her patience would never run thin.

The knock continued.

She opened her eyes again to see the floor of her lab. She was not home. It was not Christmas. Her mother was not at the door. Another knock, another heavy hand banging her door that was not her mother's. She tried to swallow, but there was no saliva in her mouth yet. Why was in her lab? The blinds were half opened, blocking the morning sun. She thanked God for it, she was feeling her eyes burning, as if she hadn't blinked in a while. She tried to cough again, this time she made a sound, a weird one she never heard before.

''She is in here!'' there was a familiar voice behind the knocking door. ''Hermione! Hermione, open the door!'' Ron. She took a big breath, filling her lungs with air. She did it again, and again, blinking as she was doing so, disappearing the glue from her inside.

''Miss Granger? Are you alright?''

She frowned at the hearing of the unknown voice. ''Are you a fucking moron? Open the door - '' she couldn't remember locking behind her.

''We are not in liberal to open laboratory's - '' she frowned again, remembering the contract she sighed with the Wing. She looked around her, her wand was in the bag she left to fall from her shoulder. She wanted to reach it, but failed. The banging continued and she felt a headache roaring inside her head. She pointed at the door, waving her fingers and opening it wide.

She tried to use her voice and tell him where she was, but he had already walked from the parchment carpet to her laying body. ''Merlin Mione! What have you done?'' he yelled and knelt on the floor only to touch her cold body, ''What the fuck?'' he looked at her slowly blinking eyes in surprise, reminding himself when she last felt this cold. ''Don't just stand there, call a Healer!''


	6. The Wakening

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Wakening

_St. Mungo's, East Wing, __Twenty Fifth of May 2002_

Ron nodded at the nurse who happened to walk for the tenth time in front of them. A shy smile curled her lips, lowering her dark eyes and meeting the shining floors of the hospital, turning left to the nearest corridor, giving him a promising glance.

He mimicked her gaze only to feel Harry's punch on his shoulder. ''Really?'' he questioned him, slightly narrowing his eyes. Ron rubbed his shoulder, taking a step back from him, resting his body against the wall of the room she was in.

Up until this moment he hadn't spoken to him. It did feel strange but yet expected. They have had to talk since the funeral, they have had to see each other since the day they buried Ginny. The silence between them felt weird, yet refreshing. He closed his eyes, feeling the warm weather reaching out and sweating his whole back. He was right, _of course he is,_ he thought and lowered his gaze from him - it was not time for flirtatious gazes even if that nurse was challenging him to lose the little control he had managed to save and maybe make his mind stop working for a while by trapping him inside of her, blocking every single back thought, feeling and fear out - he needed it. He didn't know how much until he craved for the silence between them. It was not polite to remain speechless, it was not used between them, but the person who could stop them being idiots was lying unconscious in one of the numerous beds of St. Mungo's.

His eyes fell on Harry's skeptical face. He looked bothered, a bit afraid too. He was too, and if he wanted to be honest with himself, it did bring up memories of the past, a past he at least wanted to be forgotten. There were times he was jealous of Hermione's gone memories - times he wished he was in her shoe, times he wished there was no past to haunt them - but then there was times he thought of how much easier his life would be if he never met Harry, if he never met Hermione. How much suffering he could have saved he wondered as Harry's frowned face met his. ''You tell her.'' Ron finally used his voice, taking his eyes away from him and glancing around the empty hallway they were spending their free time into.

''Why me?'' he looked offended, but Ron's attention was at the closed door. ''Wasn't you who found her?''

''What a terrible excuse is that?'' he rushed to talk back, meeting his eyes. ''You were the one contacting her the most and you didn't even bothered to see what taking her so long to write back?'' he pushed himself off the wall, crossing his arm under his chest and standing in front of Harry with challenging eyes.

''Look who is talking about writing back!'' he snorted once too many times, mimicking his body posture. ''It's been, how long? Two months? You left Ron! You left and never said a word - ''

''I am sorry I was mourning Harry!''

''Was I not?'' he yelled at him, causing some Healers to turn their attention to them. One of them shushed, placing a finger to his lips, as the other one pointed at the sign on the wall praying for well being of all patients and demanding for silence as they're focusing on healing. Harry nodded, an apologetic look shaded his whole face feeling ashamed for his action. He looked at Ron then, thinking about that last action of his and maybe feeling ashamed of what they have become these past years. ''And not to be offended,'' he spoke sarcastically, raising a brow, ''But who was the one leaving and never coming back to apologize - ''

''Did I hurt your feelings mate?'' his whole face wrinkled, giving the impression of an older man. The amount of pain was not left unnoticed from Harry, either the nurse who happened to walk past them one last time. If he saw her Harry couldn't tell, as his angry eyes were still on him, desperate to find out why they were acting the way they do.

''She took them with her.'' he grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, pulling him towards him. ''She took everything when she died.'' he painfully whispered, setting him free with a push. He looked at his shoes. Those were the last thing Ginny ever picked for him. He wanted to save them, keep them away from everyone, treasure them, hold on to them. He wanted to never wear them and scratch them on top of thousand times walked streets and dirt them with the look of unpleasant people. He wanted to keep them pure, just for a little longer. She had said he is lucky to have someone in his life with any type of fashion sense and he had laughed, he might have laughed again that moment, he could even share his memory with his friend, but he didn't. He only stared at the man who looked alike to his wife, having same eyes, hair, freckles and facial expressions, only to feel his heart ache realizing he was not her. ''She was sick Ron.'' he spoke, still looking at his shoes. ''She was dying from the moment we found out she was pregnant! What could I have done?'' he angrily whispered, watching him in the eye this time. ''You hold this against me, sometimes I do too, but what could I have done Ron?'' his voice broke and he had to take a step back, suddenly feeling vulnerable if not lost.

''I don't hold anything against you - ''

''I lost the woman I love. I lost her too, not only you. And now I am standing among happy people, with their happy lives and their happy faces, having a baby in my hands - ''

He snorted, crossing his arms under his chest, ''Who is happy Harry? Who?'' he shrugged and paused, not sure why he was expecting an answer from him. ''You sure aren't, look at me, I have grown a beard! A fucking, itching beard! Hermione?'' he pointed at the shut door with his head, ''She poisoned herself, Merlin knows what was she trying to find in that majestic lab of hers, none of us is happy Harry. No one. We hide our feelings, we put a fake smile for anyone to see and we say we are fine, because mate, this is what we are good at these days. Stop whining, stop pretending you are the only victim, grow some pair and face the reality!'' he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, finding himself resting against the wall of her room again. His left hand ran through his hair and put some pressure on the back of his neck.

He didn't want to see Harry, he didn't want to share his grief, his guilt, his sorrow, his self-pity - simply because he had his own sad feelings to feel, and on top of everything there was Hermione. Sweet, good hearted Hermione.

She never hurt anyone. She never wanted anyone to get hurt. She just wanted to be good with her own self, be good with her own mind. She even poisoned herself for what seemed to be an answer to her requests - Ron was sure about it and there was no one or anything to change his mind. He could see it in her eyes, he could see a need spreading out, a desire she couldn't control. First it was her weird behaviour, then their break up, the isolation, the internal questioning of unanswered facts leading to that burning desire, but poisoning? It didn't seem right to him.

''You tell her.'' Harry broke his thinking and looked at him, tightening his jaw. He frowned, pushing himself off the wall, wondering how afraid his friend might be feeling. ''I can't look her in the eyes anymore, Ron.'' there was a hesitation in his voice like he was trying to hide his insecurity. ''We lied to her Ron. Don't say it doesn't bother you.''

And if he might have found salvation to that lie before, right now, he knew he was bothered by what they have done. It wasn't the actual action, it wasn't the regret, it was the effort they had to pull up and keep acting indifference with every red flag she was waving at them. ''They gave us a script and said _you __do__ne_.'' he emphasized on the last two words. He didn't want to unriddle the joke the Ministry pulled on them, even if he wanted to. ''No one had a choice, no?'' Ron's voice broke as his eyes fell on a tall, silver haired wizard, getting out of one of the rooms. Harry frowned, following his gaze.

Draco Malfoy fixed the cufflink of his right hand, as shining round jewels decorated with the dragon the Malfoy Family had licked with, guarded his master. In their eyes, he looked pale, bit starved maybe. Blaise Zabini walked to him with a big leathered bag, the DM initials were sewed with gold thread on every side - his eyes fell on the duo watching their doings and he smirked.

He nodded to them, making Draco frown. ''What are you doing?'' he asked and turned to see familiar eyes on him. _Potter_, he thought and his jaw tightened. It had been years since the last saw him in this very place - he was weak back then too, ill and unstable, but the green eyed wizard visited him for what seemed to be a great deal of reason - looking at him now, it still might be. ''Great.'' he sighed. Blaise gave him a sympathetic gaze, making him curse his own luck, then this thinking. He didn't want to face that reality yet, let alone his red haired friend. He had sent a thank you note and a very expensive gift he knew he would like when he testified in his behave in the shockingly empty from people and media, trail of the Malfoy Heir. Potter managed to offer him a life away from Azkaban, with a clean name, saving his ass, but not the Malfoy Enterprise, making sure he knew it was all for Hermione's sake. His cheeks fired up and had to lower his gaze from them to his perfectly fitted, handmade shoes, offering a nod in the process and rushing to grab the bag from Blaise who looked at him angrily.

''No, you knobhead.'' he said and his voice reached the ears of Harry and Ron. He took the bag back from him. He whispered something, making him nod and close his eyes in defeat. They walked to the golden duo that used to be a trio, making Draco secretly ask where was she. Ron straightened his back as Harry looked at them from head to toe. ''Potter, Wealsey.'' Blaise greeted and stood prideful in front of them, his one arm resting inside Draco's grip, the other holding the bag he had been told to bring in St. Mungo's too may times, filled with personal belongings as his best mate managed to ill himself with a rather original way, making every Healer walk by his private room and ask him how did he lose some of his magic. ''Fun to see you around.''

''Could say the same for you.'' Ron looked at them both, focusing on Draco at last, as his eyes were red.

Draco used his tired voice and it came out broken greeting them. He heard Blaise falling into an easy conversation with them, blaming the constant changes in the trading law for the slow business these days, something that found Harry rather interested as the Auror Department was called to stop some of the illegal exchanges. Blaise kept dazzling them with his law knowledge, a knowledge that kept growing from the moment he took over the family business of one of his stepfathers and using his good public face, managed to work along with the Law Department of the Ministry, creating new jobs and settling down old arrangements with other countries.

And as his ears were kept hearing his friend mumbling about what seemed to be rather important, commenting in with autopilot beliefs, his eyes focused on the name of the patient behind the door Ron Weasley guarded like Cerberus - her name, her perfect name, and a small panic grew inside of him. _Fuck_, he thought and cleared his throat. ''I should really go and rest. It had been a tiredsome week.'' Draco said and heard Blaise snorting - he was talking nonstop about how left behind his business was now that he spent a week in the hospital, blaming his unfortunate incident to his workaholic self, lying to the Healer to let him leave his damnful place to go and work -

''Oh.'' Blaise recognized the look on Draco's face, the one he had when something was not right, the one he had seen him having two more times with one being when Dumbledore died, the other when Hermione Granger broke up with Ron Weasley, _shit_ \- ''All the best for you.'' he covered his confused eyes with a charming smile visible from outer space and tightened his hold around Draco's bag, fearing more and more with every new step what his best friend might do this time.

Harry left to watch the empty now hallway, thinking about what Ron had said before the interruption and his guilt grew more. ''I'll tell her.'' Ron said and put his hands in his pockets, forced himself to forget about Draco Malfoy. ''Maybe we can find the courage and tell her everything.'' he mumbled, taking his eyes off the closed door.

ΛVΛ

Her feet were cold and her spine was sweating. There was a breeze, a warm nostalgic breeze familiar to the one she used to feel in her fingertips when she was preparing her summer suitcase to one of the infamous Granger's family vacation. How happy can a person be among the people he loves? Her father had asked her that question once and she still couldn't find an answer. Her mind snapped at once at the thought of her parents filled her heart with much more pain than the one she used to feel earlier - why was she hurting? Why was her whole body hurt? The muscles of her legs felt sore, her back was inching and tensed, her whole arms felt as if there were torn apart and sewed back in a sloppy handwork.

She could hear voices. They were talking about the upcoming Quiddtich game between Egypt and Bulgaria as a light, calming music was coming from somewhere behind her. She wanted to open her eyes, but she couldn't. The voices were now three. Harry asked Ron if he was that hungry - pumpkin cake with extra syrup. _''It's Hermione's.''_ Harry's voice sounded like a vibration in her ears. Someone was touching her wrist, checking her pulse and she waited patiently to leave from her side and hear the door open and then close and be alone with her friends again. She started to countdown from one hundred, hearing the Healer ask about her mental health. She wanted to open her eyes and ask what the fuck he was talking about but she didn't. She heard Ron asking if everything is okay, and waited patiently to hear his response but got nothing. The door opened and closed, and she looked at the two male friends she called brothers.

They looked at her, quite surprised, and she them. They didn't believe she had her eyes open, and she couldn't believe they were together in the same room. ''How are you feeling?'' Harry was the first to ask, not moving a muscle to even try and go to her. She swallowed hard, gathering her thoughts.

She didn't know to be honest - there was a pain in her body, but the rest was blank. ''Sore.'' her voice broke. She smiled and he did the same. A hand held hers and she looked at the familiar face of the red haired wizard. ''Hi.'' she felt her face muscles hurting and her eyes filling with tears. She had to see him since the funeral. She wanted to raise her arm and place it on his face, but she had no power in her body. She stared at him, he looked relieved, a bit happy too, she guessed it was for her wakening - she looked at Harry, he had the very same expressed feelings in his eyes and face. ''What are you doing here?'' cowardly asked, squeezing the hand of Ron for a second. He gave her a sympathetic smile. ''Why am I here?'' she finally asked, realizing she was in the very same room she used to be when she fainted after the Battle.

''Easy Mione.'' Ron commanded, and rushed to put a hand on her back, fearing about her weak physique. ''Do you feel alright? Are you thirsty - ''

''What - What happened - ''

''Perhaps you are hungry.'' Harry rushed to turn around and bring the cake, feeling himself useful for the first time these days. There was a painted smile on his face, the kind she used notice on him when everything was falling apart and he was desperate to try and keep a poker face, thinking he was fooling them.

Ron's voice made her look at him. He had a beard, wasn't that odd. He looked tired, not as Harry tired, but tired. There was a hesitation in his eyes, a small fear perhaps. ''She can't have sweets right away, the Healer said it so.'' Ron rolled his eyes, making Harry do the very same.

''Why are you together - '' her eyes travelled from Ron to Harry and back.

''Let's call the Healer back - ''

''No.'' Hermione squeezed Ron's hand with all the power she had. ''What happened? Why are we here?''

''You - you don't remember?'' Ron asked a question that brought memories back to all of them. He made himself more comfortable on the bed and looked at her through kind eyes. ''I found you in your laboratory.'' he talked calmly as if he was reading a fairy tale to a baby. He gave her a small smile and she frowned. Her heart was beating fast, but for some reason, she was not upset. ''You fainted, you were starved and dehydrated - ''

She laughed with her husky voice, reminding of a person she had to think in a long time, Draco Malfoy. He had come one time in Astronomy class, still sleepy, with some wrinkles on his face from his pillow and his tie slightly loosen, laughing at something Blaise Zabini said - his voice was husky and deeper than any other time she heard him, and it was the first time she had paid attention to him, seeing beyond the spoiled brat who was slowly turning into a man.

A pain spread in her head like lighting - she made a sound and let Ron's hand to cover her face. Harry wanted to call the Healer, but she refused. She bit the inside of her cheek, telling she was fine, she has to be. The glass of water was on top of her nightstand and she took it, hungrily drinking it, feeling it tracing her whole torso. Her tongue ran across her lips to find them dry, scratched skin ticked her only to taste some dried blood on them. She frowned and rose her hands to see a single paleness layer of flesh hugging her bones.

''What is today's date Hermione?'' Harry asked and walked closer to her, examining her tired, red eyes and her sculptured face, as her cheeks had gone and her jaw was popping out of her face even more.

''Fifth of May.'' she talked in a matter-of-factly way, not paying attention to his sorry eyes until she got nothing in response. Her eyes left her hands to meet him. ''It's fifth of May isn't it?'' she felt her breath catching up her chest.

''It's twenty fifth of May Hermione.'' Ron took his eyes away from her, feeling his whole body reacting to her confusion. ''You were gone for twenty days. You poisoned yourself.'' he held her hand in his, warming ever the slightest her cold skin.

A smile curled her lips, not believing what he was saying, even if both of the men looked at her with the same apologetic gaze. The smile gone and the hair behind her neck raised. She took her hand back, placing them on her chest, feeling her bones under her fingertips - collar bones popping like the old, ancient statues of women she used to see in museums. Cowardly, she looked inside the thin dress they wore her, only to see bones again. ''Poisoned.'' she meant to ask but failed. Blurred images created in her mind -

''They found a mixed potion burning your stomach, what were you trying to do anyway? Kill yourself?'' Ron's voice sounded bothered. She frowned to his accusation and fixed the blanket on her lap.

What was she trying to do? She was fighting hard with her memories and her concentration, Draco Malfoy, his face popped into her head. She had seen him in her favourite cafe, the one a muggle wizard recently opened, offering the newcomer coffee to the wizarding society and tea, numerous of kinds and tastes. She had talked to him, it was the first time she saw him after the war. He looked taller if that was possible, his posture was covered with exquisite prestige, along with an aura of independence and maturity, mixed with handsome features, big grey eyes reminding the one of clouds, silver hair being longer on the top of his head and shorter on the sides, perfectly combed backwards as he used to style since young age, his gaze holding a warm shade, a missed one.

She had ran after him, asking about his tea. How silly she might have sounded, but he cared little, no? He had smiled, answered and left, leaving her alone. She had ran to her laboratory, her recovery potion! Her eyes sparkled at the realization and both men frowned. She looked her skeleton hands. Did it work? A headache was starting and she couldn't fight it. ''I - I was trying, I wanted to - '' her lips touched each other and looked at them both. She played like a tape their words about their shared past, _nothing? _ she asked herself and she felt her face falling. It didn't work, did it. ''I can't talk about it.'' she rested back, smelling the freshly baked cake with extra syrup.

Ron tried to take her hand back to his again, but she didn't allow it this time. Why didn't it work? It should work, it has to work. She was certained, wasn't she, about him, about his help? She felt wronged. She felt as if there was someone playing her like a puppet.

''Harry talked with Miss Ackroyd. She gave you the rest of the month off.'' Ron informed her and her heart beat fast. No, she can't miss work, she was too close to find everything. A small panic glowed her face. ''Mione?'' Ron called her and she tightened her jaw.

''I can't miss work. I have to -'' she protested, trying to put her upper weight on her arms and sat up more comfortably but found it impossible until Ron helped her. He fixed her pillow, letting her rest against it.

''You need rest Mione.'' Ron spoke calmly again, offering a kind smile, making her feel like a sick old woman.

''I am fine - ''

''You are not fine! You poisoned yourself!'' Harry looked at her with fatherly eyes and she held her breath. ''You could have died Hermione.'' he said the words he feared the most and ran his hand through his messy hair. ''You can come and stay with me and James - ''

''Or at the Burrow, I can take the rest of the month off too, stay in London - ''

''You came just for me?''

''Not just for you - What the fuck?'' he complained as Harry's elbow hit his ribs.

''The point is that you have to rest, and you have to let people take care of you, even for a minute.'' Harry opened the box of the cake and offered her a piece. ''We will sort this out.''

* * *

December 2002

Ron covered Harry with the extra blanket he kept on the bed. ''Yeah, yeah buddy.'' he snorted as Harry mumbled something about a diaper in his sleep. When he was younger, he used to mumble parseltongue driving Ron insane - but now, the memory brought a smile to his face. He walked to the window, slightly let it open, remembering something he read in one of her nursing books, when he was waiting for her to get ready for their first date, that the air of the room of a sleeping drunk person must be recycling the whole time. He felt a bit prouder than every other time, thinking about what Hermione would say if he told her he acted based on a book, but before he could find himself feeling sad, a light cry caught his attention and rushed to go to his nephew, seeing him still asleep in his swing. He smiled and left, letting the door half open, remembering when he was going the same to Ginny when she was afraid to sleep after a nightmare - she must have been around five, maybe six when she started to have nightmares, making Ron staying awake by her side, waiting to fall back asleep.

He smiled again, this time watching her beautiful face in one of the pictures in the hallway. She was so beautiful, so amazing and strong. His heart ached and walked to the guest room only to stand by the opened door, never allowing his feet to lead him inside. The image of her starved body was still burning his mind. He wanted to sleep, but he could find himself staying here for the night. He walked downstairs, finding his coat and not his gloves. He cursed under his breath, searching around only to find them in the kitchen, next to the recent Daily Prophet. He wore them, reading the main article's title; _Draco Malfoy on taking over Muggle Industries._


	7. The Confrontation

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Confrontation

_Twenty Sixth of May, 2002_

From the kitchen in the Potter residence was coming a warm, thick scent of cooked pork, with sweet potatoes and apple pie. She stood still as Harry closed the door behind him, letting her suitcase under the hanger on the left, where some pictures of his once family and friends decorated the bricked wall like fine art. Her eyes found the familiar face of Ginny and she wondered how much easier everything would have been if she had a girl friend to talk to. Harry's hand rested on her shoulder and she tiredly turned around to see his smiling face. He was anxious and she knew it. If she had to guess why, she would pick the only obvious reason; he was scared about what she was capable to do.

There were times Harry and Rom could forget about how good of a witch she was, there were times they only saw their friend and not just another brilliant mind. It was smoothing as a gesture, but yet dangerous. And they knew it.

Harry left the bag with the potion the Healer gave her to gain weight on top of the nearest table, watching Hermione looking around the house like she had never been there before. ''Are you alright?'' he asked, taking the denim jacket, the one Ron gave her because she was cold, off her. She nodded, not sure why she was feeling sad about being in her best friend's house.

Everything was left as she remembered, the decorations, Ginny's coat hanged were she last left it - a sighed escaped from her lips. She didn't want to upset his still unsteady life, what was she doing here? ''There you are!'' Molly stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a colourful towel and bringing the smell of cooked food with her.

_Right, that's why,_ she said to herself, remembering why she couldn't bare to step a foot at the Burrow and face the house without Ginny - it felt unreal to her. How many memories can a place hold? Either good or bad, it wasn't really mattered to Hermione, but those memories, those treasured, loving memories were the ones weighting the most. ''Hello Molly.'' she finally greeted with a heavy heart.

''Oh dear child.'' she took a hesitated step towards her, then another and wrapped her arms around her thin body, feeling every bone with every move she was making, with every breath she was taking. ''We will get you better, don't we Harry?'' she looked at her son-in-law, who was left to stand in front of the shut door of his house. ''Neil and I were classmates, if he says you are fine then that's the case.'' she talked calmly and motherly, making her frown, she didn't know her Healer had a name. ''I hope you are hungry,'' a sad smile decorated her old face. She wanted to protest, she wanted to say she only needed to sleep, but her eyes caught sight of her reflection in the big mirror that was one with the wall.

She frowned at the person she was watching, it was not her, it was not herself. The person in the mirror was thinner than ever, her collarbones were popping out like round pens, the bones of her chest were countable, her legs were bones with a bit of flesh around them, perfectly visible from the jeans they brought her from her house. The air in the room seemed to run out - her eyes rose to her face, her cheeks were sucked inside, she had black circles under her eyes and her once pinky lips were now nude, familiar with the colour of the walls of the house. She swallowed hard, fearing of the figure she is watching. Her eyes filled with tears and she rushed to look away.

Harry blocked the mirror with a spell she would have noticed if she paid attention, but she was busy feeling her mind drifting away as the smell of apples flood her senses. Who was having this weird fascination towards apples? Her eyes scanned the living room where a Daily Prophet was left on the coffee table. Her gaze stuck on the front page, as the name of Draco Malfoy was decorating the page turner, in an article about the Enterprise and its dept. She frowned, she has been told he wasn't the one running the Enterprise.

''I want to sleep.'' she said and looked at the big staircase, secretly waiting for Ginny to come downstairs.

''Only with full stomach.''

ΛVΛ

_She was running. In her hands she was holding a wand, a weirdly coloured wand. She didn't know why she couldn't feel safe, she didn't know why those trees felt unknown to her. The need to stop burn her muscles. Shadows of her hunters caught up with her. She screamed, fearing of the things they might do to her. She ran, faster, without a single breath left in her lungs. She wanted to stop, but she didn't. A heat wave burned her face and she closed her eyes tightly, feeling like she had been bitten by a bee. She couldn't run anymore and she wished she was not being seized. _

_''What are you doing?'' she heard a voice and her feet froze her to her spot. She would have recognized it if she could pay attention._

''What are you doing!'' she opened her eyes watching Harry's sweating face only some inches away from her, his hands still shaking her shoulders.

She rushed to sit up in bed and released herself from his strong grips, one hand reaching the switch of the light, the other running through her hair. ''What are you doing here?'' she asked with her heart pounding hard against her chest. He frowned, his shocked eyes were red, his forehead sweaty. He seemed different under the yellow light, scary, alarmed. She put her knees closer to her chest, hugging them, waiting for an answer. ''Harry.'' his eyes were not leaving her and she felt the hair behind her neck raise.

He finally sat on her bed, trying to find his breath. His glasses had a thin layer of blurriness, something she thought it was from his body temperature. He rubbed his eyes, letting the glasses fall back at the bridge of his nose. ''You - '' he couldn't see her face and she felt her stomach turning into a knot. He was ashamed? ''You were reading my mind.'' he whispered and she frowned. ''My memories.'' he covered his lips, fearing of the truth he was speaking.

''I was - I was sleeping - ''

''You were seeing my memories Hermione!'' the little patience he had, blew away as her eyes met him. He rushed to look away, resting his hand on top of his leg. ''We were running away from the Snatchers and you jinx me - ''

''I never used Legilimency before.'' her calm voice managed to make him mad. He tightened his jaw, and she held her breath.

''What kind of a recovery potion you are trying to make?'' he asked without thinking twice about what he promised to not talk to her about. Her whole spine shivered and she let a deep breath out. The idea of speaking to Miss Ackroyd about her research popped like a floating lamp on top of her head. She felt the need to talk to him about, knowing he might not be in a good place to hear what she had to say. He was expecting an answer. She was expecting the truth.

''A potion working reversed to the spell used to wizarding beings like the Longbottoms, or Luna - ''

''Or you.'' he interrupted her talking and she hid her bottom lip. He looked hurt, not scared as she thought he might - maybe he was not lying to her, maybe he was being truthful from the beginning. He nodded and looked away from her, the disappointed gaze of his, rested on the faded away night.

''Would be that wrong if I did.'' she talked in a whispered and his lips pressed together harder than before. He stood up, never consider to meet her eyes again.

''Go back to sleep Mione. We can talk in the morning.''

ΛVΛ

She looked herself in the mirror and felt her back shivering at the sight of her naked body. Bones were popping out of her flesh as her skin was made out of thin paper, almost tearing it apart. She ran her hand along her collarbones, feeling the edges of her fingerprints hurting - she couldn't believe what she had done to herself, she couldn't believe how far she was willing to step to find what she once lost, and of course, didn't even work. She wanted to curse herself, to yell on top of her lungs, maybe break the mirror in front of her and never see her reflection again - she frowned. Pictures of another reflection collected in her mind like dust on top of old furniture.

The knock on the door made her cover her body with the bath robes, creating a knot in her waist. The ginger hair of Ron shown first as he opened the door and looked at her with sad, puppy even eyes. She hid her bottom lip, running her hand in her still wet hair. ''They were waiting for you.'' he told her and she nodded. He looked her skinned arms escaping from the huge sleeves of the robes and he sighed - she noticed it and she crossed her arms under her chest. ''Are you okay?'' there was a hesitation in his voice, maybe because he knew she wasn't.

''Yes.'' she nodded, decorating her face with a fake smile. ''Start without me, will you.'' she turned around to go to the closet and wear some clothes so she could attend breakfast, but Ron had closed the door and walked in the guest room, never meeting her surprised eyes.

''What did you do?'' he asked her at once, not wanting to waste another minute.

She shrugged and watched him raising a brow. He was not impressed with her show, and he was not having any of it - to be honest she expected it. She could play Harry as much as she wanted, never fearing of losing her excellent poker face, but with Ron it was different. He could see right through her, understand what she couldn't say, see what she was hiding - and as if her now innocent-played gaze was a disguise, he sat at the end of her bed, waiting for a single true word to come out of her mouth. ''I am not going to apologize if you expect me to.'' she looked at him. His eyes were red, maybe he hadn't slept. He was still wearing his work clothes, and Hermione knew he came straight from the Ministry.

''You think I want you to apologize?'' he asked and she felt her eyes watering up. She looked at her feet, hiding inside warm cotton slippers. ''You scared us, you know.'' he said and she looked at him funny. ''You think you didn't?''

''I think you have a reason to be scared.''

''What is that suppose to mean?'' he was offended and she knew it. She took her judgmental eyes off him, focusing on her slippers again. She wanted to tell him everything, how much she wanted to remember, how much she wanted to understand what had happened, but she didn't. She cleared her throat never taking her eyes off the floor. ''You know Mione, there are times I wish I was the one with the lost memories.'' he was standing, taking the jacket he was wearing off his body and holding it in his hands, tightly, as if he was afraid to let go. ''You have no idea how lucky you are.'' their eyes met and she felt guilty for no reason. He nodded, walking to the door and leaving her alone, as the only thought daring to trouble her mind was how different they were seeing her so-called illness - for him was a blessing, for her a curse, and if she had to guess, for Harry might be a salvation.

ΛVΛ

She found Harry sitting on the balcony. He had fed and put James in bed a while ago, and now he was simply enjoying the silence - it almost felt unfair to her interrupt his calmness. ''Don't just stand there.'' he spoke as calmly as his features dared to allow him, ''Come.'' he said and took her off guard. She tightened the long jacket around her body even more, taking the big step and finding herself sitting next to him. ''Did you like dinner?'' he asked, offering her just two sips of wine, winking at her.

''You have improved.'' she mocked and he smiled, nodding too many times. He looked at her and she did the same, the colour of her cheeks was back to normal, her eyes were sparkling, and her lips were pink once again. She had even taken some pounds, as the potion the Healer gave her, started to work. ''Ron said he won't come back until Monday.'' she informed him wishing he didn't know. He nodded, taking a sip and letting his eyes gaze in the darker night horizon, hosting a big, bright moon.

''Will you mind being alone tomorrow, with James?'' he asked and she left to stare the way it was shining, alone, but bright, without no help of another, without no assist, no company. Something about that moon felt familiar, too familiar, yet so strange and unknown, almost welcoming her to get a second glance of something too precious, too sacred. ''I want to head to the city - ''

She was holding her breath.''Why not coming along?'' her voice broke when she finally breathed again. ''You have to take James out of the house more often Harry.'' she didn't know how, but she was looking at Harry now. And he was mad. Not at her, either for her suggestion. He was mad with the life he was now living.

''The world is too chaotic for a newborn.'' with two sips he emptied the glass of wine and looked at the empty bottle with disappointment. He stood up to fetch another.

''Life is chaotic Harry.'' she mumbled and looked at the moon.

ΛVΛ

She opened her eyes and felt her sweat running down her neck, or was it tears? She couldn't pick, mostly because of the continuous pounding of her heart that was making her breath faster, wishing there was an opened window to flow fresh air in the room. She sat on the bed, gathering her hair in a messy bun and cravingly drinking the water Harry had left on her nightstand. The newspaper she had stolen from the dinning table some nights ago was under her pillow, its exposed end challenged her to read the article about him again. But this time she would just stare at him, his long lashes decorating his colourless sad eyes, as the dark suit he was wearing was making his skin look paler as the camera flashes could easily blind him. She looked at him and her heart beat came back to normal. She smiled but she didn't notice it - her hand rose and cowardly she ran her fingers to his face. A desire to see him burned her insides. She opened the newspaper and she read his name next to Astoria Greengrass's. She frowned. Were they courting? Were they a couple? Why she was feeling so uneasy?

Why she cares about him?

ΛVΛ

A slightly loud crack, the kind the very first stair of the staircase does every time someone step on a very specific spot woke him up. There was sweat running down his neck, tracing every inch of his cheeks like tear lines. His heart was pounding so fast, it could almost sounded by his own ears. He had felt like this before - the realization didn't suit him right. He found himself opening the door of the main bedroom and running towards the guest room, only to see it empty. Another sound decorated the silence, this time coming from the door of his house. He might have thought someone had broken in, but who could he lie to? He knew what it meant. Wide, rushingly taken steps brought him closer to the staircase, only to stop in the middle of them, as the image of her suitcase, the one he had prepared and carried to his house was now rested in front of the door, as she was looking for her denim jacket, the one Ron gave her.

''Hermione.'' he called her the moment she sighed as her hand touched the fabric. She didn't turn to look at him, she didn't want to face him, not right now at least, not like this. She unhanged it, covering her forearm. ''What are you doing? Where are you going?'' his tired eyes looked at her dressed body, perfectly rose alike cheeks and lips decorating a disappointed face.

''You lied to me.'' her voice came out of her mouth with an unknown force and her eyes met his. There was nothing in the world that could protect her or him from the truth and they both knew it - it was coloured in her eyes, creating a shadow in his. Merlin only knew how many times he opened his mouth to speak but failed. And she was there to see him failing - he pressed his lips together, disappearing them from her burning gaze.

''It was not a lie.'' he dared to say and she shook her head, seeing him even more disappointed than before. ''I wanted to protect you - ''

''Protect me!?'' she wanted to yell, she wanted to shout, but she didn't, she only stared at him with the most hurtful eyes he ever saw a person having. ''Me?'' she repeated, letting the jacket fall from her arm to the floor, covering the wood around her suitcase. ''I spent my life fighting a cause people named both honourable and suicidal and you wanted to protect me? From what? The truth?'' she had promised herself not to face him, she really did, but who could ever defend her, if not herself? Who could ever stand by her if not herself? Who could ever speak with her loud, bone-breaking voice if not herself?

''It is not like that and you know it - '' she snorted and he stopped speaking. It was exactly like that, and they both know it. Perhaps there was no turning back now, perhaps they were both living in rental time.

''I handled years of physical and emotional abuse for your sake and you tell me you kept me in the dark the moment I was the most vulnerable, baptizing my inconvenient stage into a fear of facing me? Into a fear of opening my eyes?'' a single step brought them closer and she put a hand on her chest, feeling her heart breaking in million of pieces - to his disappointment, those pieces decorated her eyes. ''You could have told me the truth.'' she felt her eyes watering, thinking every time she asked him about those forgotten days and he simply lied to her with such ease, with such Oscar-performanced vibe and her stomach turned into a knot, her dinner asking for an escape. ''Why? Why didn't you tell me the truth?'' she asked the question she needed an answered the most and his eyes fell from her. ''Why did I have to find out like this - ''

''I didn't have a choice.'' he admitted, his voice low, reminding the one of a whisper, hiding behind his cowardice, fearing of her roaring eyes, of her roaring feelings. ''They made us do it!'' she snorted again, making his patience running thinner than paper, ''You don't know what was like - '' he started to explain, but her slightly louder voice got his attention and his eyes looked at her.

''You are Harry fucking Potter! Do not pretend you couldn't have done anything to stop this chaos!'' she pointed a finger at him, feeling like Molly Weasley all of the sudden, ''Do not pretend it was another's fault. You caused this, this,'' cursing words were bombing her mind, as the unfair feelings of those wasted years quelled her whole body hurting her more than the memory she had stolen from him earlier this night. ''You chose it, Harry.'' she said at last, tears escaping from her eyes, ''I needed your help and you didn't even offer.'' her hand rose, wiping warm salty drops from her burning face. ''Where is Luna?''

He closed his eyes in defeat, wishing for a cry of his newborn, wishing to not be here right now, wishing he had never known the answer. ''Ministry's clinic for troubled young Wizards and Witches. For recovery.'' he said kind of shamefully, and her whole face wrinkled, new tears running down her face. She rose her hand, covering her eyes and letting out some loud sobs.

''Oh my God.'' she mumbled, but Harry heard her. His cheeks fired up. ''Oh my God!'' she wanted to throw up and he wanted to take some steps towards her, beg her to listen to him, but he stood like a statue in the middle of the staircase, watching her from afar, feeling his once prideful ego crashing down like paper cards. ''Would you do the same to me?'' she asked and he widened his eyes. ''Would you let them lock me in a clinic for recovery - ''

''Hermione, I could never - ''

''Clearly you had a choice there, hadn't you.'' she bitterly talked, taking two big breaths, collecting herself in front of him. ''Both of you, you,'' her words gone again, feeling a hand curling around her neck and choking the life out of her, ''It is me who fixed what you fucked up once again.'' she nodded and stormed out of his house, both knowing she won't come back.

* * *

December, 2002

Ron closed the door of the Potter residence and walked in the cold, almost snowy weather, going somewhere only he knew off, leaving Harry alone, staring at a dark, wooden door. The distant ticking of the tall clock Ginny had begged him to buy, made his ears hurt. He might have cursed it because it stopped. He looked at the door, the door looked right back at him as if it was a living person with feelings whose Harry hurt too. How hard and easy it was, at the very same time, to lose the trust you built all those years ago? Someone cried and for a second he couldn't remember he had a son. He ran to his room and when he saw him, he stopped. Harry looked at the crib. A book on top of the rocking chair was there to remind him of who he had hurt. He let himself rest against the wall before he squatted down the floor and cover his face with his hands, not knowing when it was the moment he fucked up so much.


	8. The Acceptance

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Acceptance

_June 3rd, 2002_

Her eyes travelled around the rental apartment Harry helped her find. Evidence of human life was popping out of small corners where books couldn't fit, probably a piece of furniture like that tall lamp against the wall, or that umbrella holder she didn't want to buy but looked like the one she had at her parents' house, and choked her with nostalgic feeling when she first saw it, or that new painting she had seen in the gallery on her way to the bookstore she so much loved and bought all of her favourite Muggle books. It was a small gallery, a cornered one, with wide wooden windows that were different coloured everywhere she dared to look. It was a small gallery, a cornered one, but it was filled with art pieces she knew she would love to stare for a second more, but it was raining that day and the sky had a grey shade she had seen somewhere but couldn't remember where.

She blinked watching the canvas decorating the wall. It was a big painting, perfectly fitting in the middle of the wall. It didn't have a frame. And it didn't need one. It was holding the colours she dared to memorize and the feeling that should run freely, everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was just the canvas, alone, powerful, needy and shady at the same time, against the light blue coloured pricks she called home.

The bag fell from her hand and the jacket licked the wooden floors. She didn't know why, or how, but she was now standing in front of it. Secretly, she wanted to be absorbed by it. To become one with it. To feel its energy smoothing down her wild mind, relaxing her heartbeat, her thoughts - and for a reason, it was calming her. It was making her heart beat normally again. She was not even complaining about the heat of the old house, or that distant sound that was like playing οn speakers at the end of the street of the flat she had found her house. She might have wished it that moment to be absorbed by the calming panting. To hear nothing. To feel nothing. To stare at its colourless colours, desperately wanting to be one with the idea of something owned, something one can call his. It might be worth the trouble.

And it wasn't the greatest painting. It wasn't the nicest, either the most wanted. It was a painting forgotten by the owner of the small cornered gallery himself.

It had lines, not straight, crooked and fat, seven, like the rainbow's, but colourless, shades of grey she swore she had seen somewhere, but couldn't remember where, playing as the seasons were changing, discovering new ways to live along other much more powerful and full of rage colours. It almost felt as if there was a movie playing inside of them. And the hero was soulless, lonely and alone, not by choiψe. Maybe he needed saving, maybe he needed to save himself - maybe he needed someone to tell him how much he worthed the saving, the trouble, the effort. It had two single straight lines of yellow that were so, so small, one simply had to narrow his eyes to notice, and even then it might be hard to see it. She didn't know why she liked it. Either she knew why she bought it. She just found herself holding it in a thick sheet on her way to her house. And it fit perfectly to that wall. Still does. And those two straight lines of yellow were like jewel to her light blue walls.

ΛVΛ

The almost gold blanket she had bought when she first moved into the house was hugging her warmly. She should have been sweaty, hot or even uncomfortable, but she wasn't. She was just sitting there, her legs crossed, her hands holding a bottle of rose wine, no glass, no cooler, just the bottle between her thighs and hands, warming up from the heat of her body.

She didn't mind.

Every other minute she was taking a good sip, a very good sip, filling her whole mouth with alcohol and hungrily swallowing it. She didn't want to think, she didn't want to remember. She didn't want to think of him. Some dried tears were shining like pears her cheek, some freshly cut out of the hurting-mind-and-feelings factory she called eyes fell, creating two perfect circles. A dusty, black and white image of his blood creating the very same perfect circles made her have yet another full sip. A sob escaped her lips and she might have wished she was one of those people who can vomit easily when they drink, but she wasn't.

Tiredly, she read the brand of the wine she bought. She will trade everything to leave this stupid apartment and be anywhere else but here - that sounded familiar to her tipsy mind. Who said it before? Who? Another full sip cleared her throat, feeling it travel all the way down to her empty stomach - she was hungry, but not as much as she was sad. Another full sip. Maybe everything happens for a reason, she tried to calm her raising mind, but failed. How much of those she had? In the fridge she had more than three bottles waiting to be opened, and she already have drank two, minus the one she was holding in her hands - the clock on her nightstand started to sound - she jumped a little. Her eyes lost in the hallway, watching the morning light bombing inside the opened door of her bedroom. Some dirty hair locks fell from the messy bn on top of her head. How long she was sitting there? She thought it was still night. She thought it was still the third of June.

The small paper with the number five fell from the enchanted calendar on the wall holding the bookcase and she frowned. The alarm's ring kept echoing in the senseless house - ''Fuck!'' she yelled and stood up, the bottle of wine fell from her hug and broke along with the other two -_ right,_ two more bottles of wine. The blanket fell from her shoulders on the floor, covering some of the glasses. She should clean it, but fuck it.

Awkwardly, she walked to her bedroom, not minding the dizziness, not minding the sickness in her stomach, either the black dots in the corner of her eyes and the way everything spun without an order, without a reason. ''Confringo!'' she yelled and it exploded making a rather big sound that made her eyes extra watery. Small flames joined the main one, slowly disappearing as even the weird yellow colour surrounding it, the one Ron kept telling her it was the most awful alarm clock she could have ever picked, had melted into a coaster.

* * *

_September, 2001_

It should have rained, but not a single drop touched the ground. It should have been chilly, colder than it was right now wishing she had a trench coat, but it wasn't. Wind was playing cheerfully with her hair, but her hands were crossed under her chest and she didn't dare to lose them free. Secretly she felt relieved for smelling the colourless in her eyes dirt covering the two coffins. Word has it, it was a unknownimus donor paying for the private space where her parents were buried and she might have smiled a little thinking no one would never thought it was her - because word has it, she was a long distant relevent from New Zealand, a rumour she had said herself to her mother's best friend, Helen, when she came next to her after she threw some flowers in the grave.

''Mione.'' a familiar voice called her and she knew she had to answer. But she didn't.

She had to see them since she obliviated them. She had to see them since she took them away from her. Yes, it was safer, yes, they needed to be safe, but right now, seeing the dirt covering the two coffins she had picked made her heart ache more than the moment she found out they died in a car accident. How very normal that was. Dying in a car accident. She had experienced a life of magic and wand fighting, a life of death with the most unique, yet cruel ways and her parents, the people she feared they die in the hands of Death Eaters and crazy fanatic wizards died in a car accident, like common people, like Muggles.

The taste of the last tea her mother ever made her slide in the back of her throat the way ice-cube do, burning her insides like frozen red pepper. How did she call the uncertain prosper of life? A gift? She sure felt like an unwanted one this moment.

''Mione.'' he had called her again, this time a bit louder, with a hidden urge to meet her eyes. She wanted to tell him she heard him, she wanted to tell him she didn't want his kind-hearted personality on her way, fearing of the things she might say to him, fearing of the hurtful venom her tongue held, fearing of losing him for good.

''How did you find me?'' she asked as if she didn't know how well he knew her and her eyes kept searching for a way to change the colourless dirt covering the soulless bodies of the people she loved more in the world. Even if she knew the answer, she kept waiting. ''Don't.'' she turned to see him and he frowned. Her eyes weren't red, her cheeks weren't that specific pink, the one decorating her features when he made her cry - no. She looked pale, a bit tired too and relieved. It took him off guard. Years later when he asked her about it, she said she knew where to find them now, she knew the fear of their safety was long gone.

''Don't what - ''

''Don't try to fix it.'' a long, needed sigh escaped her mouth and she gave him a small smile. ''You cannot. No one can.'' her tired body stood straight in front of him, ''I know that.''

''Do you?'' a string of long hair fell to his face and he looked at her through pained eyes. He knew how empty she was feeling and she knew how empty she looked. ''Come to the Burrow - ''

''Ron - '' her lips sealed and her eyes fell to see the shoes she was wearing. She wanted to tell him how much of an outsider she was feeling among them, how much her feelings has started to change for them, how much she craved for a missing detail she dared not to name, how much she wanted to feel normal and at home again - but she only looked at him. His kind eyes wanted nothing more than to help, even if he had lost too many things along the way. She stepped on her toes and kissed his cheek. No one could fix the hole she had in her heart and she knew it. No one could heal the emptiness in her life, no one could trade their pain with hers.

* * *

_June 6th, 2002_

Wrappers of delivered food was all around her, their scent was reaching her nose, making her crave for more. She blamed the potion that Healer gave her - she blamed her rule-following herself for already setting the task to refill it for the last time.

Someone was tapping the window and in her sleepy mind she ordered herself to open it with a single wave of her hand. Wind and early morning aroma flooded the living room that she had turned into a bedroom the past days and she breathed deeply the fresh air, hungrily exhaling and breathing in again. Wings coloured the dead atmosphere of her house, almost bringing a happy aura in the cemetery-sensed apartment. Athena rushed to run a round or two before throwing on top of her covered with her favourite blanket body the new newspaper and a small package. ''Fuck.'' she cursed feeling one of its edge. She tried to sit up and her left leg trapped between the covers, making her fall hard on the floor. ''Fuck.'' she said and her whole face wrinkled. Something wet started to run down her cheek. For a second she thought it was tears - maybe she wished it was. Her shaken hand touched the collarbone where a rather wide scratch decorated her face. Red warm blood rested against her cold fingertips. It looked familiar, known. Tears reached the surface of her eyes and her a loud sob manged to scare Athena.

Broken pieces she hadn't picked looked familiar - too familiar. The way the light trapped inside of them reminded her of a fallen chandelier. The way her blood created perfectly round drops reminded her of his blood when the heavy, handmade jewel crushed him. Her cold fingertips wiped inside her palm, painting them with hot, red blood.

Tears fell down her eyes. She rested her back on the sofa and she hugged her knees, curling her whole body inside her hug, not paying attention at the front article in the Prophet, asking where the hell was the Malfoy heir the past days.

ΛVΛ

_June 10th, 2002_

She didn't want to go to work that day. There was a warning need in her mind to stay home and a threatening desire forcing her hands to take off her clothes and go back to the smelling now pair of sportwear she was wearing the past days.

But she did non of it.

She had magically healed the scratch on her cheek. She had eaten breakfast after too many years of being hungry in the morning. She had even dutch braid her hair in two thick, perfect lines, leaving two shorter, curly locks framing her face. She had done everything in her power to be late and not go to work, but it didn't work.

08:04 pm.

Her reflection was not the one she remembered in Harry's house, either the one she used to see when she was healthy - or thought she was. The skinny jeans she was wearing looked a size larger. The white satin shirt with the long puffy sleeves reminded of a mini dress. The thought to lose the denim crossed her mind but she only buckled it, fixing the bow around her neck where the collarbones still popped out. Ginny had bought her that shirt. She asked her what kind of gift she would like for her birthday and Hermione said only her return. The urge to cry flooded her whole body and she felt physical pain. She looked at her sad eyes in the mirror. ''Not another tear.'' she ordered herself and her jaw clenched hard. She nodded to her reflection and took a step, watching the package Athena brought some days ago. Harry sent her a gift. Fuck him. And Ron. He sent her flowers and a sloppy_ I'm sorry_ note.

An old photograph with Ginny and herself caught her attention as she stood there, watching their happy faces in a shining frame they picked from a thrift store. How much easier would everything be if Ginny was there? She smiled at the photograph and she grabbed her notebook, tightly holding it near her heart.

She needed a friend. She desperatly needed a friend.


	9. The Return

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Return

_June Eleventh, 2002_

_Independent Experimental Wing, Downtown Wizarding London_

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Two times. Maybe more. Sweat was running down her neck and the long corridor leading to her office looked like an airport runway on a hot, cloudless day. An envelope fell from the pile she was carrying and she stopped at once, maybe forming one or two cursing words in her mind. ''Okay, okay.'' awkwardly she grabbed it placing it between her lips, trying to find the spare key she went out of her way to go and take back from Harry this morning. She didn't need it, she just didn't want him to have it. He greeted her politely, but he was embarrassed to meet her eyes. He mumbled most of the time, confusing his words and she cared little to ask why Molly wasn't home.

''Miss Ackroyd.'' Hermione froze at the sight of the woman standing still and alone in front of her closed door. Her long dress was licking the floors of the top floor. Her hands were covered in light fabric attached to rings on her fingers, reminding spider's nest. ''Hello.'' she greeted, out loud, but she wasn't paying attention to her starved body, either the tiredness decorating the delicate features of her face. Her eyes were scanning the written name of her employee, the one she thought she could trust, but fate had other plans.

''I adore Muggle names, have I ever mentioned?'' she had and Hermione remembered it as if it was yesterday. It was the day she agreed to hire her and fund part of her research, not knowing Hermione had already lost too much of her own money in that nameless request of success - she wasn't going to lie, the thirsty ambition and lack of fair in the name of seeking and change was the only thing keeping her glued to the young witch. Miss Ackroyd had given the time, space, funds and trust Hermione needed in return for new, extraordinary potions the Wizarding World has never seen before. Hermione was bringing money back to Miss Ackroyd's experimental wing and Miss Ackroyd's was giving her fat checks Hermione use to pay her own private research, not wanting to associate the revolutionary potion with the Experimental Wing of St. Mungo's.

But that was then.

Now Hermione knew she couldn't fool her anymore. Miss Ackroyd was smart - too smart - and she was sneaky, she knew she was brewing something else than the ideal potions she was offering - and of course she found out. Last Christmas she hosted a ball. A ball with all the high profile Wizarding Beings known to the Health Department for their generous offers. People who kept buying forever young potion and never aging solutions. People who kept buying whatever shitty potion guaranteed a longer lifetime. It used to scare her how much people wanted to live. It used to fear her the never lasting thirst of a long, prosperous life. She shook some hands, she said one or two words, she smiled and drank a couple of glasses of wine before Miss Ackroyd confronted her in front of everyone, dangerously looking at her and promising her research for wealthy needy people with children in the same fate as Luna Lovegood, making Hermione realize where she had put herself into.

''There is a specific greediness to their sound, no?'' she turned at last and looked at Hermione's skinny body covered with mails and earlier Prophets. ''Aren't you a sight for sore eyes.'' the tone in her voice was sarcastic and Hermione gave her a small smile.

''What can I do for you, Miss Ackroyd.'' there wasn't a friendly tone decorating her voice either, making the old, questionable well dressed witch smile.

''Mr Potter lettered me today. One can say he seemed concerned?'' she stood like a guard in front of her door, never even considering to move and allow her to enter. Hermione tightened her hug, inviting her eyes to scan the used notebook she was carrying.

''Should he be?'' she regretted asking. Lips pressed together and she might have swallowed hard. ''He - ''

''He informed me about your poisoning.'' her eyes widened as her mouth talked meaningfully the last word. Her stomach turned into a knot, her gaze searched her dominant one. ''I hired you for your vision, Miss Granger. A vision you created without my knowledge. Do not trick your overused mind into believing otherwise.'' she looked at her from head to toe and breathy laughed. ''I want my research till the end of the year, and Codric be my witness you will not sleep till I get it.''

ΛVΛ

She opened her eyes and breathed in and out a couple of times before her lips fell apart. The blinds of her lab where fully closed. Fearless sun shines were daring to bright the dark room as if no one was there to witness their glow. A trail of saliva was decorating her face and she might have cleaned it with the back of her hand. Some sticky notes were lost inside her thick curls and she made a weird grin when she found it out - ''Not again.'' she tiredly said and rested her sore back against the chair as watery eyes looked around the messy room, asking herself why she didn't go home.

A small, the very last one bottle of that awful weight gaining liquor that Healer gave her was still resting in her empty hand. She threw it in the trash can, and for the very first time it actually went in. She rose her brows, looking rather impressed with herself, but having no one to cheer for her.

A knock on the door made her frown. She looked at the watch around her wrist and she widened her eyes at once - it was noon? How many hours had she slept? Another knock. She tried hard to collect herself. Her dress had several wrinkles, her shoes were nowhere to be found, her hair was - she saw her reflection in the glass door and her eyes widened more - her hair looked nice for an unknown reason. Another knock. ''I'm - I am coming!'' a sharpy voice escaped her sore throat and asked herself if she was getting sick. She waved her hand opening the blinds. She waved her other hand fixing the mess with the used flasks and herbs on top of the long metal table. She waved her hand and some opened books flew towards the huge bookcase behind her desk and she had to squat as one of them almost hit her head.

''Are you.. good in there?'' a female voice made Hermione freeze her weirdly postured body and look at the shut door with confused eyes. She might have even held her breath for a second or maybe more before she asked herself why the hell she was afraid of?

With determination and a silly smile on her face she stood up and fixed the wrinkles of the last dress her mother ever bought her, a nice blue dress with several flowers decorating it. She nodded, giving herself a pep talk and calling her awkwardness a light-headed moment from her comatose stage some days ago. Her hand curled around the knob and her lips fell apart. It took her a second to recognize her, ''Greengrass?'' she asked with a surprise both on her face and her voice.

''Hello Granger.'' her old classmate smiled at her with the most awkward way she ever saw a person smiling, holding tighter the sting of her shoulder bad in one hand and a rather big yellow box in the other, filled with - her hungry stomach could never betray her - handmade cake. ''I was in the - I was - I was told you are here.'' light eyes escaped Hermione's and she might have swallowed hard, trying to memorize the million times she prepared the speech she would give her. She looked at her hand holding the cake. She told herself not to say it, but her lips were already opened and - ''Blaize read an article about your work - ''

''Right.'' Hermione looked at Daphne Greengrass surprised. Their old common days in the hallways of Hogwarts could only be translated into normal day-to-day typical behaviour, as the witch had nothing to do with the rest of that green-cult they called House. Some veins popped out of her hand as she kept tightening her hold. She was being anxious and Hermione wondered for the very first time how long has it been since the last time she seen her. The chocolate smelling cake made Hermione's stomach sound. ''Would you like to come - '' her hand fell from the knob revealing the slightly tidier than before lab.

''Yes!'' an excited nod following by wide steps led the brunette with the bright eyes inside. Her gaze landed on the box she was holding when Hermione took her wrinkled robes off. ''Here, some goodies for you.'' her arm extended and Hermione frowned, slowly starting to question her doings. ''Nice workspace.'' she breathy talked, missing the way Hermione's eyes widened at the amount of cake that was inside the box. ''I see you have settled nicely here - ''

''Yes!'' she interrupted her without watching how relieved she was. ''Yes, it is a common laboratory for my research - '' the idea to thank her flew out of the opened window as her eyes stuck to the thick notebook on top of the metal table and Hermione rushed to close it, fearing she might steal it from her. ''what, what are you doing here?'' she rested against it, holding her notebook under her crossed arms.

''I - I wanted to - '' her lips sealed as her eyes travelled up and down her obviously thin body. She frowned - the image of a young Hermione Granger that was never so skinny came to her mind. Popped collarbones made her question her eating habits. The clock on her desk pointed at 2. ''Would you like to accompany me for lunch?''

ΛVΛ

In the middle of the most famous pureblood wizarding street was a restaurant no one knew the owner, the chef, either the difficulty one would simply have to bear in order to have a single meal - well except for Purebloods, Hermione was sure about its flexible availability to Sacred28 members. It hardly mattered at the moment as the heavy smell from the opened kitchen in the middle of the room overtook her whole senses and built her appetite.

The Pink Mockingbird's menu was resting awkwardly in both girls' hands. Hermione was trying hard to focus on the written words and not the fake calmness on Daphne's face. She asked herself, one too many times, how well trained Purebloods were in social contents. There were times those kids looked like alien royalty formed human, with extreme patience and naturally sense of darkness - at least in her eyes. There were times she would stare at the Slytherin table the way older classmates were eating, socializing or even standing around their own, wondering if and how those manners changes in the presence of someone like her. Always well present, always collective and string to their actions as if there would be no one worthy enough of those guards to fall.

A younger image of the girl sitting in front of her popped into her mind. A single line of pearls around her neck, new Slytherin shirts and sweaters every other week, shine new oxfords and matching knee socks, with flawless hair in numerous styles depending on weather, mood or even trends, with similar pearls alike accessories to her hair glowing her long, naturally dark brunette color would always have been accompany her to everyday appearence.

Cowardly she rose her head to see her again. Her hair was much shorter than the time they used to call each other classmate, thin laugh lines were decorating her face perfectly, clothes looked much more affordable than the weekends outfits she remembered her wearing, only small pearls were left to be the same, shining as her head rose and looked at her straight in the eye - shit.

''Have you even been here before?'' she asked with a smile on her face and Hermione took her eyes off her at once, repeating the salmon's dressing ingredients, numerous time in her head, feeling embarrassed and maybe a bit out of her place to stare her like that.

''No.'' the tone of her voice made Daphne blush, feeling a bit out of her place. She tried to make herself much more comfortable in the chair she was sitting, watching her old classmate's cheeks burning. She sadly smiled, remembering the very same way her cheeks firing up whenever she was sitting in the last table in the library and couldn't finish all the assignments in one day. Scanning the rest of her face, Daphne noticed she hadn't really changed. If one didn't know her, they might think she was an eighteen year old girl, fresh out of a Wizarding Institute of her choice. Some men even turned their gazes, ogling her from head to toe, making Daphne wonder why the hell didn't she notice. Some perfectly well curls fell and framed her face - thank Merlin that untamed wildlife turned this good. She always envied her about her hair. Daphne's was straight and always motionless, Hermione's was just full of character, who wouldn't want that?

There were times she wondered about her after the War and everything that had happened to her and the rest of her boy band. There were articles and several gossip about Potter and Weasley, but not much about her - to be honest, there was nothing about her. No one was writing, talking or even using her name, as if she was a ghost that had left from the Wizarding World when the last ash of Voldemort flew away.

There were times she would ask herself if she was a pleasant person back then - sure, it sounded egoistic in her ears, but yes, she did spend some time asking her own self of the questionable behaviour of fellow Slytherins - had she ever acted the way they did to her? She wanted to believe she hadn't - not because she wanted to find peace in her heart, but mostly because she wanted to believe she was a better person than the rest of them.

''The tables are silent.'' she left the menu down, crossing her fingers. She guessed she shouldn't spend that giving time in questioning herself about the past, but looking forward of what she can do to improve herself. ''The whole purpose of its existence is to offer discreet.'' a weak smile decorated her face and her back straightened even more.

''So it's a club.'' to Hermione's surprise, she laughed, making her wonder how the hell did she know what she was referring to. ''Purebloods only I assume - ''

''I met someone.'' she rushed to say and Hermione looked at her with a frowned, she used to have whenever Ron was eating.

''Um- ''

''He proposed.'' awkwardly she hit the naked finger, not knowing what impression the girl in front of her might assume, ''He did. He is an amazing person, Hermione, he is kind and humble and he is just so supportive - ''

Her eyes widened at the hearing of her given name. ''Why are you telling me this - ''

''I had four miscarriages. Four.'' her voice broke and looked away, not allowing her guards to fall in front of anyone else than her own self. Her lips pressed together before she met Hermione's eyes again. ''In the past year I had four miscarriages.'' she whispered again, as if she was trying to make herself believe it as well. ''The very first time I hardly noticed. After the mess my family left,'' _what mess?_ Hermione asked herself, missing some of her words, ''but the third time I was much more aware! I was around three months when I lost the baby.'' her tongue ran through her lips and she took a bit breath. ''The last pregnancy, Mark noticed. I was five months when - '' her lips sealed and Hermione closed her eyes in defeat when she saw some wetness in hers.

''Daphne - ''

''Blaise read an article about you the other day.'' she collected herself and took several sips of the elf-made wine she had ordered earlier. ''Needless to say he was impressed with your work, secretly I believe he too wanted to become a Healer - ''

''What can - Why are you telling me this - ''

''He, Mark, he isn't - '' there was a need in her eyes. A need Hermione had seen the day she realized not all Slytherins are like the one who had terrorized her with one specific word she wanted to forget. She had seen Daphne kissing a Muggle student in Hogsmade, one maybe two years older than them, and when Pansy made sure to point where her lips had been, Daphne shut her up nicely before she bathed her with ice tea. ''He is not - ''

''Pureblood?'' she asked with a matter-of-factly way, watching her feel ashamed to the hypothesis of her being with a Pureblood - _shit!_ Hermione's lips fell apart. ''Wizarding being.'' she said at last and Daphne offered a smile. ''He is not a Wizarding being.'' she repeated, resting her back in the wooden chair and closing the menu as well, making the waiter to come to them. She looked the way Daphne's expressions changed in nanoseconds - she felt a bit afraid, but not for the reason one might imagine. ''Salmon. I will have the salmon.'' she said to the waiter who left at once. ''I am not that kind of a Healer - ''

''You understand how difficult it is for me - ''

''Difficult?'' her eyes widened at once, ''Do you really want to talk about difficulty?'' she asked, not waiting for an answer, knowing exactly how very sensitive matter it was. ''I do not know how to help you, I hardly - did you mention you are a witch? Muggles only speak of magic and witches on brooms in tales and - ''

She looked around her, making sure no one was watching their heated conversation, trusting the very old gossiping foundation among pureblood-suckers and its effect to one other, ''I have lost the place I once held in this place, Hermione.'' she looked offended, but not really offended - like she had expected her to know what had happened with her family the past years, ''I live in London, I have my business there, my house, my li - ''

''You cannot run away from what you are!'' Hermione looked at her with eyes reminding McGonagal. She regretted it the moment she said it though, maybe because of the way she looked back at her with a stroke of realization colouring her eyes as they closed slowly. Hermione held her breath for an unknown reason. ''Your child will be a wizarding being,'' her voice was much more smoothed now, ''he will have a name licked to this World, you know that - ''

''Help me.'' she wasn't begging. She wasn't asking. She was just putting her need out there, a need well reserved for people too close to her to see, a need Hermione has never seen before, a need Daphne chose her to share with. She looked broken under the light, that moment. Not like a broken doll, soulless and alone, no. Daphne looked broken like Hermione used to see herself in the mirror. Broken with thousand of pieces spread around a room she had never tended to visit again. Broken like there was no hope. And Hermione felt her pain. Felt her need, her sorrow, her lust. She felt them because she knew how difficult it was for her to make this leap of faith and talk to her. She felt them because deep down, she might have done the very same thing if she had a friend. She felt them because it was like she was seeing her own reflection in the mirror she had at home.

''I am not that kind of a Healer, Daphne.'' her voice broke something inside of the young witch and Hermione knew it. She even felt it as her eyes lost contact with hers.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Don't do it.

Don't offer hope.

Don't.

''But I know a doctor that can help.'' Daphne's eyes sparkled at once. ''He is a Muggle, he - '' a deep breath widened her lungs, ''We can find a way to help you, but it will not be easy.'' she watched her smiling and losing a tear that almost reached the pearls she was wearing, forgetting about the little voice in her mind telling her how much she is going to regret it.

* * *

December, 2002

''Would you like your coat? Or a blanket?'' he asked her as he was leaning on the wooden frame of the balcony.

She turned her head to meet his gaze and she smiled at the way he was hiding his hands inside his slacks pockets, wanting to hide his obvious nervousness. ''No.'' she whispered, but her voice reached his used in cold ears. ''I like cold weather. It's familiar.'' she saw him lower his head, trying to hide a small smirk.

A distant sound of a church bell ringing in the night broke their silence. ''There is still time to return if you want.'' he refused to use we, as the last time he used it they ended up here and she smiled knowing he wouldn't use it. She looked at him, his tall posture against the large door. It was the third time he suggested it and the first time he didn't mean it. She wondered if he knew.

She took a big breath, admiring him from afar, repeating his suggestion in her mind. He was right, there was time, deep down, she knew there was, she just knew she didn't want to leave. And she wouldn't leave.


	10. The Lovegood

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Lovegood

_June 20th, 2002_

_04:37 pm_

Someone kept banging the door. She covered her head with the light blanket she so adored, making herself comfortable with the idea of not standing up to see who was mad enough to disturb her at this hour. God, she hated being forced to wake up. She was an early bird, but always waking up on her own time, using her own private alarm, opening her eyes to see the calmness, emptiness around her, knowing it was her choice to wake up and no one else's. The banging continued. Whoever that was, was free to leave without any more bother to her. She heard a noise, the kind one does when he was ready to throw up - her whole face wrinkled. That was the last thing she needed at the moment. Her landlord was pretty clear of hygiene factors. It was some months back, when Hermione had drunk her way towards 2002 when her vomit decorated the elevator for half a day, triggering his anger and his low voice to raise. The banging continued. She cursed whoever knocking - ''Hermione!'' _Ron?_ she sat on the bed and felt her heart pounding in her chest, mimicking the door. _What is he doing here?_ She didn't want to see him, not yet at least. ''Open the door! Hermione!'' he yelled and she frowned at the way his voice demanded attention. Her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. He was drunk, clearly he was drunk, ''Open the door!'' she held her knees tighter in her hug. The last time he got drunk was at Ginny's funeral. Her mind screamed. ''Hermione - ''

''What do you want?'' she yelled back opening the door and watching furiously eyes gazing back at her in perfect shock, perfect need to bring back the days where nothing was too complicated than the haunting of Harry Potter - she wondered how a simple, drunk gaze could tell her that, but then again, maybe it was her own need and not Rons. He looked taller, tired and uncomfortable on his own skin.

''What do I want? What do I want?'' he pushed the door open and walked inside, not finding any protest from her. If he wasn't drunk, he might have found it rather weird, but nothing mattered at the moment. He was mad, she was awake and this situation needed a good old sorting out. ''Since when are you this pity?'' from his pressed lips escaped a heavy, strong scent of firewhiskey and cheap wine, making her nose wrinkle.

''Excuse me?''

''We have done everything in our power to keep you safe,'' a finger pointed at her, ''you do not get to be mad at us - ''

''Safe?'' she laughed, actually laughed with the words coming out of his lips, until she realized what the fuck he was saying. ''You lied to me!''

''You expected us to act differently, but you have been comatose for weeks - ''

''And you knew the reason why, you knew Ron!'' she pushed him away, ''And you never said a word Ron, you never told me anything, I was lost and I was missing something from my life, I was begging for - for a single life vest and you - ''

''What the fuck is a life vest?''

''It's - it's a vest one wear when - is that important right now?'' her hands crossed under her chest and looked the still opened door of her house. She rolled her eyes and closed it, letting her head rest against the wooden surface. The need to run away flooded her crowded mind, washing away the previous need of returning to the days of their common past, where there was no memory loss, no lies and hidden meanings, she didn't want to see him, she didn't want to confront him, not right now at least. She wanted her time, her space. She still haven't realized who spelled her, she still haven't realized why he did it, and who the fuck was Draco Malfoy to her at this point, or any other point. She was still confused and utterly annoying at him and his nerve to make her forget what he did - and how the fuck he did do it?

''I am sorry.'' his voice made her concentrate on him. His fingers ran through his hair that looked darker than the times she had seen him at summer time. It was a mystery to her how easily his hair was turning lighter when a summer sunshine managed to lick his head. She felt her knees freezing. His gaze started to travel to her body, noticing nightwear. He frowned. Surely he didn't spend the night drinking, did he? There was a clock in there somewhere, where is it? The drunk mind started to give him orders, slowly turned around, breaking a lamp. He left to stare at it, small pieces of yellowish glass had spread around him. ''I am - I am sorry.'' in his drunk mind, he had already tried to squat and gather the broken accident, but all he did was to throw some books from the cornered library - ''Fuck - ''

''Stop!'' she yelled and he stood still. He tried hard to keep his focus on her as his head started to spin and hear a high pitch noise. ''What do you want Ron?'' her arms crossed under her chest and she leaned on the wall.

''Hermione, there is no better way to tell you this, but - '' his tongue licked his lips and she noticed a small bruise. She asked herself if he had a fight, only to widen her eyes at the sight of a love-bite on his neck - _does he have a girlfriend?_ When did that happen? And why haven't he said anything? Her eyes narrowed - there was a fresh scratch some inched above his collarbone - he does have a girlfriend! Ron would never, ever slept around, he is not that kind of a man - '' - no one knew! No one!'' his desperate voice made her snap out of it. ''Harry helped him in his trial and Malfoy promised to shut the fuck up for the first time in his life - ''

''What?'' she clearly lost some of his words. She shouldn't have done that. ''Ron - ''

''For once stop talking!'' he looked tired as some morning lights started to lick his face. ''If you want to stay mad at us, please do so, but do not pretend we wanted to hurt you.'' his voice was low, his eyes were begging her to listen to him and what he has to say, ''To what they have seen an opportunity, we saw an easy way to end everything and finally have our worthy peace. It's not fair, you weren't worth it, but who let kids fight an unmatching battle?'' that shivered her whole spine. That very question was troubling her mind everyday, keeping her awake some nights, making her regret every little dose of magic - ''I am not sorry for trying to remake your life differently, I am not - and you want to know why?'' that was rythorical but she opened her lips and took a big breath, ''because you had the smallest, weakiest opportunity to spare some of the pain, some of the sorrow the rest of us faced! I would do it again if I had to.'' drunk eyes looked at her and straightened her back, ''But, I am sorry for thinking you don't deserve the truth. I am sorry for thinking you weren't strong enough to handle it. I wanted to offer you something beautiful and real even if I already knew we were not meant to be.'' he confessed with a rather sad voice and his lips pouted.

''Maybe in another lifetime.'' her low voice chilled her sweating back. He gave her a smile.

''No, not even then.''

* * *

_June 22th, 2002_

Her leg nervously bounced against the wooden floors of the clinic. A misplaced pattern on them was making her eyes unable to focus on anything else than it. The whole building was making her mind, soul and whatever peace she had these days carefully snap out making her feel uncomfortable.

She had never been here before, and Harry had never talked to her about it, either about Luna. Over the years, his words about her was pretty unaccurate, uncertain and rushed, as if he was making everything up. Looking at the lobby, she understood why.

A woman was sitting behind a rather small desk - it didn't have corners, it didn't have rough ends. It was round and small. Even the legs were just two circles. The woman looked Hermione over her glasses - red eyes, red nose, messy hair and a stain of breakfast on her otherwise clean unwrinkle shirt with her name written in a shining yellowish gold badge. Her left hand was writing something in a long, too long parchment meeting the floor. ''Perhaps you should leave.'' she took her eyes off Hermione and rested her hand at the end of the desk. ''As I have repeated numerous times, she does not allow any visitors - ''

Her lips fell apart at the sight of the Healer opening the doors. His robes were licking the floor, his cheeks were burning. ''Miss Granger.'' he said and the woman behind the desk frowned. ''My apologies for the wait.'' he swallowed hard, trying to keep his anxiety steady. ''Vevius Sternbell.'' a fakely placed strong voice made Hermione rose her eyebrows. His sharp jaw clenched. ''I am sure you have been informed - ''

''I am ready to see her - ''

''Miss Granger - '' his lips pressed together as if the next words were too hard to be spoken, ''She is in a catatonic stage for this week - ''

''Who authorized a wizarding being to put in a catatonic stage? Who is responsible for her health in this so called Wizarding facility?'' fierce eyes make him look elsewhere. She smirked and entered his personal space, whispering in his ear, ''I can end this joke of a clinic if I want to, are you certain you want to forbid me something?'' she looked at him dead in the eye and he shook his head no, extended his hand for her to walk first.

He looked at the woman behind the desk with a small fear in his eyes and she nodded, preparing a small note for the Head Healer of the clinic.

ΛVΛ

He wasn't lying.

He wasn't fucking lying.

Hermione tightened her hold around the string of the shoulder back she was wearing. Her heart might have stopped. Her lips might have fallen. Her mind might have warned her to leave and never return. That was not Luna. She was not the girl Hermione remembered, she was not the life-loving, spirit-lifting girl she once talked to, eat and study next to. No. She was broken. Unrepairly broken. With the corner of her eye, she saw the young Healer encouraging her to walk inside the room and not just stand there like an idiot - but Hermione couldn't. He opened the door wider, leaving the space she so stupidly asked for. She wasn't prepared for it. She wasn't prepared for that.

''If you need anything - '' he pointed at the red light at the end of the white nightstand where several books were left to wait a read. A bed, perfectly made up with clean sheets smelling lavender and ocean, a small closet with no doors, no mirrors to look at, no fancy clothes expect of a neat, handmade sweater, a frame holding a photograph of her and her father, a desk with a quill and some marked parchments - that was her home. That was her world. She was living in the room of her prisoned life, trapped inside of a battle of her mind, her magic and her senses, trapped inside foreign walls by now called home. And then, her.

Luna was sitting in a chair watching the way the sky was changing the colours it had adopted for today, carefully painting it with dark shades of blue and shining stars of unreached galaxies with a calm, uncharacteristic smile on her face. It made Hermione shiver. Her hair was freshly washed and combed, styled in a low ponytail, with only some strings framing her face. Even if it was warm that night, she was wearing a cardigan, covering her whole body. She looked peaceful, a bit sleepy too, but it was normal by the past hour.

_19:18_

What got into her and she came this late to visit her? She fixed her watch around her starved wrist and wet her lips. She cursed Harry - if he had told her about her stage, if he had opened up about everything that had happened she would have acted sooner, she would - she took a step back. Luna was watching her. Her blue eyes were tangled with hers, wanting to tell her something, wanting to share her pain and her need for salvation. She was hurting, her inner magic was burning with flames, smoking up her lungs and tired mind.

''Hello Luna.'' her hand tightened around the strings of her bag - again. ''Hi.'' her soft voice didn't manage to break her focus with her eyes. Her breathing fasten. Her mind was now screaming her to leave -

''Sometimes the light blind me.'' husky voice made Hermione's hair behind her back raise. ''It blinds me.'' not a single blink escaped her eyes.

''Sun can blind you - ''

''It's not the sun I fear.'' she whispered in a familiar tone, the kind she had heard in the voices of the clients Miss Arkloyd was bringing her over the years - after-Crusio victims - that was the name Miss Arkloyd gave them, of course not out loud, only in private meetings adding the words money givers. And if Luna had the financial background to be one of those people she could have been treated by now. The need to help her flooded her mind. The need to help her crushed her. Why hadn't she done it by now? What was she expecting, and from whom? She swallowed hard. She pressed her lips together. She regretted it coming. Why did she come? What can she say to her? How could she help her? Where could she start? ''I am happy to see you well and healthy, Hermione.'' her voice's tone changed, reminding the girl she once knew. ''People are often running away from me. I wonder why.''

''I am sorry it took me a while.'' she whispered and took a step towards her, ''I wanted - I wanted to come, but - ''

''Did it work?'' Luna offered a smile, filled with dry lips, small wounds and paleness, ''Your experiment. Your potion.'' her calmness freaked her out and she might have held her breath longer than she had expected.

''Yes.'' her voice came out broken, weak and in a whisper. She wasn't proud that moment, she wasn't happy, she wasn't excited with the wall she had torn apart. She wasn't in terms with the reveal those walls held - and she knew it.

''I am glad. I knew it would.'' she turned her attention in the night sky again.

''How - ''

''I was watching over you, Hermione.'' a smile decorated her lips, her eyes shone as the night curled the small world of hers in the clinic and her face glowed as if she was certain, hundred present certain she had succeeded.

ΛVΛ

He offered her tea. In a cup she swore she had seen before in her life, but she simply wasn't sure if she was the one owning it, or seen it in a coffee shop. He had a rather questionable big clock on the wall, with a living bird in the middle watching over them like a hawk - chills vibrated her whole back and she left to stare at the awkward bird in the eye, never noticing how big its cage was, or how many carvings the wood had, either the way it was perfectly placed on the wall. Sweet aroma was reaching her nose in the most relaxing way. She had seen a movie once with a guy entering an asylum like so that lead him to his lock up - he was warned not to drink, eat or take anything they offer - why is she being weird? She wasn't crazy - not Luna crazy at lease. She closed her eyes feeling disappointed with herself. What is wrong with her?

''Quite the tricky case, Mr Lovegood.'' he said when he sat in front of her. His strict eyes were examining every single expression she was taking. He was old, older than the Healer escorting her to Luna earlier. And he was tall - questionably tall, with arms almost being able to hug himself twice. ''Her Divination skills have been - ''

''Divination?'' Hermione asked confussed and looked at him through narrowed eyes he mimicked. His hand reached for the cup closer to him, taking a big, relaxing breath of its steam before the very first sip. He looked at her own cup and she followed his gaze, remembering the movie she had seen - maybe she shouldn't drink, she won't drink. Her lips offered him the smile one wizarding publisher had taught her to give in times like this - who would have thought she would be good at manipulation tricks such this? ''I recall she - ''

''Miss Lovegood shown early signs of prediction.'' his tired back rested against the chair he was using. ''I doubt her skills will develop more than the already stage of day to day prediction. The torture curse sure destroyed her.'' his brutal voice made her question his professionalism next to his height. ''Miss Lovegood is brainly damaged, Miss Granger. Whoever cursed her, whoever used his magic to torture her, I am certain he meant to hurt her indefinite.''

She felt offended. ''Aren't you familiar with my study - ''

''Miss Granger.'' he rested his back in the chair, his index pointed at the certification diploma in a highly expensive, Muggle school next to another certification of the highest Healer school in the whole Wizarding World. He was pointing his knowledge, his beliefs and trys - whatever those were. ''It would be better for her if she had died.''

* * *

December, 2002

Her body was moving slowly forward and backwards like a perfectly timed machine. Her lips were curled, her eyes were looking at him and only him. She looked happy, she was happy. She looked exactly like she used to all those years ago when she was walking the corridors of Hogwarts with a light heart, a kind smile and a warm aura only she knew how to provide.

''Do you like it?'' he asked and she nodded. ''Hermione bought it for you, she said - '' his lips turned into a small pout. ''She said you like sweaters.''

''You worry, Harry.'' Luna smiled at him.

''No - ''

''She is where she should be.'' she hugged herself and kept rocking her body not minding the confuse gaze on his face.

''What is - have you seen her? Have you?'' he sat at the edge of the chair ''Is she - Luna.'' he spoke her name after what seemed to be ages, trying to catch her attention. ''Luna.'' he extended his hand to stop her from caressing the soft sweater, ''I am sorry - '' she pulled back, bringing her knees to her chest, hugging them as if her life was depending on those two legs, on those two things. ''I am sorry. I am so sorry Luna.'' he offered the sweater she had let go a moment ago.

''She is where she should be. She is where she should be. She is where she should be. She is where she should be. She is where she should be. She is where she should be. She is where she should be.''


	11. The Friend

_a/n _Hello and welcome ch11! Thank you all for reading Silver Painted Moons, it will be a small fic, but I love it so very much. English is my third language and I am trying to improve myself.

A small FYI, the story takes place in the last five days of December. The first 9 chapters were one day, the 26th (morning, evening and midnight.) and at the end of ch10 it's day two, the 27th. Whenever you see italics on the date, it's always in the past - remember the story is about the last five days of 2002.

Tell me what you think about the story, I would love to hear from you.

Take care, Γ

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Friend

_June 23th, 2002 _

_Independent Experimental Wing, Downtown Wizarding London_

**DRACO MALFOY AND ASTORIA GREENGRASS SEEN IN PUBLIC AFTER TOLD ENGAGEMENT**

Her eyes were scanning his face. He looked as if he was mad, or at least bothered about those people in front of him, those who taken their photo right that second. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but there. He looked tired, a bit thinner than the time she had seen him and talked to him some weeks ago. His one hand was hidden inside the pocket of his slacks, the other was around Astoria's skinny fingers. He was rushing to walk inside that restaurant she and Daphne ate. Thinking about it now, they might have suggested it - _they_. Her lips pressed with the idea of them together. Sure, she was a role-model Malfoy girl to the society they used to present themselves, but she looked as bothered as him - if not more. She looked forced, a bit annoying, and even if her smile was big and white and clean, her eyes were telling another story. Maybe they fought before their appearance. Maybe she said something about her naked ring finger, or maybe he said something about a man who dared to make a move on her and he got jealous.

Of course, she was the only one seeing their picture as fake as the idea of a flat earth. Underneath the lovebirds were comments about people they knew them, family and reporters. Some were commenting about their courting. Other about the beauty of their future children. Others simply wished them a good life. But her eyes focused on a reporter who she never heard before - he dared to say their engagement was fake and Malfoy is helping the Greengrass to earn their Family estate back. Is that what happened to the Greengrass Family? Is that what Daphne was trying to say to her in their first ever date?

Someone was knocking at her door. Her lips fell apart. Was she here already?

''I am late, I am sorry!'' she opened the door without her say and gave her a charming smile. ''What?'' she breathy laughed and Hermione realized at that very second who her sister was.

She cleared her throat and looked at her. Astoria slightly reminded of Daphne. Same hair colour, same shape and colour of eyes, Astoria was taller than her sister and Hermione, almost reaching the same height as Draco. And she was beautiful. She asked herself why Draco chose her, what was that special in her that made him want to devote his life at her side. Was she as intelligent and witty as him? Was she cunning, but kind in private? Was she everything he wished to find in a spouse? Her hands folded the newspaper and looked at Daphne's calm eyes. Why she cared about him? She shouldn't care about him, not like this at least.

''Are you ready?'' she hid the Prophet in her bag, watching the clock pointing at ten. Daphne sighed, then took a big breath, then nervously fixed the dress she changed five or maybe six times before choosing it. Yes, she was ready.

ΛVΛ

12:33

She looked calm and a bit excited. The doctor Hermione had booked the visit was an old friend of hers. They met in the university where Hermione was studying biology, and he was into maternity studies. He was two years older than her. He had to work to earn money and pay for his studies - one night he had told her everything about his trouble family, his younger sister he took under his care when he was only 16, his drunk father and drug-addict mother. She said it was a miracle he turned to be different, a miracle his will to fight for his life and his survival was getting stronger by the minute, and then, he kissed her, as if her mouth was a shield to protect him for the cruelty of the people he born from. They were together for a year or two, and even if he was calm and kind and he was always there for her, Hermione knew they were not meant to be. She didn't belong there, she didn't belong to his world, to his side.

Daphne kept smiling and looking rather relieved. Johnny had this thing about him, he could easily pass his calmness and kind hearted feeling to his patients without an effort, without a struggle. He told her to be comfortable with the idea of getting pregnant, that she might be stressed or even anxious, the reasons were valued but she had nothing to be scared of. He ordered her to have some miscrobiological tests and booked her another visit, holding his eyes to Hermione as a need to see her again made him smile more. Unprofessional, but who could blame him? She was often wondering in his mind - her, and the idea of their future together, even if he knew there wasn't any.

They sat in a coffee shop. Now that the stress of their meeting gone, Daphne complained about the warm weather and her need for ice tea. ''I cannot thank you enough.'' she smiled and looked at her straight in the eye. She meant it, Hermione could tell by the way her eyes were looking at her as someone worthy, a friend. ''I know! We can go shopping together!''

''Shopping?'' Hermione widened her eyes, when was the last time she went shopping? The face of Ginny popped in her mind - her tired expression, her sleepy eyes, ''I don't need - ''

''Do you know he was ogling you, right?'' Daphne whispered to her and Hermione closed her mouth. ''You do!'' she laughed now, ''I thought you lacked the flirting mechanism.''

''I do not!'' her voice sounded bothered, but her eyes looked amused. ''I just, choose when to flirt and when not to.'' her throat thanked her for the cold beverage.

Daphne rolled her eyes, ''You sound like Blaise.'' she kept talking about him, giving the impression of two best friends that stayed in touch over the years. Hermione wanted to ask her how they managed to do so, but fishing out of whole sentences and memories together, she noticed he never left. She meant to ask how come they never crossed the thin line of friends to lovers, but Daphne already said how lucky she was to meet Mark. Repeating the told story in her mind, she realized they were together for a long time - more than 4 years at least. She heard her mumbling about him - how much he managed to do over the years, how successful he was but how much he was unable to host a birthday party - wait, what? ''Draco hates birthdays since..'' her lips pressed together. She knew what she meant. It was near Dumbledore's death and clearly he never allowed himself to be forgiven. ''So we never celebrate him on 5th, but on the first of July.'' she took her bag and place it on top of her lap. ''I made the invitations this year, the least I could do for him.'' a deep sigh escaped her lips,_ what that meant?_ Hermione wondered why she was feeling obligated to him, sure it couldn't be the relationship he had with her sister, right? The words of that unknown reporter popped in her mind, could that be it?

''That's pretty.'' Hermione took the invitation in her hands, reading the place, date, and theme. ''Masque party?'' she could swear he hates those.

''He hates those!'' Daphne laughed, ''We will surprise him, there will be custom-made costumes,'' she laughed at the sound of her last words, ''and there will be spooky decorations - Mark's idea!'' Hermione looked the way her eyes were sparkling. She was enjoying it too much, but she couldn't understand if she is enjoying the whole party, or the idea of Draco hating it. Over the times she had met Daphne this month, she noticed her enthusiasm to every little thing life provided. She looked like a small child, a happy kid who lived in a constant Christmassy globe. She found it cute and refreshing. Everything in her life seemed dark and colourless, but whenever Daphne was around, she could certainly say she felt a bit lighter, as if the burdens of her past had left her shoulders, normal, as if her life had never been glued to death. She liked her company and sometimes she might need it too. She asked herself if she was like this all the time, or if something happened and chose to be delighted by life - whatever its form or troubles, or if she was just cheerful like that. Hermione couldn't remember her, but in Hogwarts, she remembered a shadow or her existence, maybe a laughter, similar to the very one she has right now, but they weren't close back then, they weren't friends.

''What will you dress?'' Hermione asked her, giving the invitation back, but then -

''It's a secret, but I will tell you!'' she rushed to put the invitation into her bag, ''Cruella DeVil!'' she made the most excited face and took a big breath, finishing her tea. ''I cannot wait!'' she whispered and licked her lips, ''Tory and Blaise will be Morticia and Gomez Addams!'' she laughed and kept telling her more and more information about the party, but Hermione's mind had already formed a plan - _steal the invitation._ It would be perfect. She would dress up, she would meet him, she would see him - she could even talk to him! Her heart started to beat in a familiar way. ''Have you ever been to a masque party?''

Hermione blinked multiple times before she realized she was talking to her, ''Yes! I love them!'' she did, but she couldn't remember when was the last time she attended one. They fell into easy conversation before Daphne excused herself to go to the bathroom.

_It's now or never,_ Hermione grabbed the invitation, a smirk decorated her lips as if she had made the greatest mischief of all times.

* * *

_June 28th, 2002_

Her body was smelling vanilla. She loved giving herself baths and showers, knowing how relaxed and well rested she will feel afterwards. She loved being clean. She took her time to put a thick layer of body lotion, her skin loving it. It had been a hard week and the idea of sleeping was the only thing troubling her mind at the moment. A large t-shirt decorated her body - it was the kind one finds in thrift stores, piled between several others unwanted clothes. It had a huge neon written NIKE word. She loved it, because it was cool when she slept. The book she chose to read was waiting on the kitchen counter, next to an empty glass of wine. Her lips turned to a smile when she purred rose wine. She loved rose wine in the summer time - her lips were ready to touch the brim when the door banged slightly, as if the person knocking wasn't sure if they should be there at the moment. She frowned, not only because she wasn't expecting anyone, but she had informed she will be off town this weekend. The knock sounded again, needy and a bit scared.

''Daphne.'' she frowned at her sight. She used to be all smiley and calm, now her aura was burned with sadness and regret. She didn't have to be under the light to see she was crying. A small fear made her heart beat faster - maybe she understood she stole the invitation? Is that it? Her overthinking mind started to form an apology, not liking the idea of not seeing her again.

''I - '' her face fell. ''I told him.'' a sad smile decorated her face. She shivered as the words reached her ears. ''I told him I am a witch.'' her face fell even more. She couldn't pretend, or even if she could, she couldn't do it in front of Hermione at the moment.

''Do you want some wine?''

ΛVΛ

The city lights were trembling under the night sky. They were talking, they were looking at each other. The bottle of wine was almost at the end. Hermione wanted to give her the time she needed, Daphne wanted to realize what she had done to destroy the small happiness she dared to seek. Her lips were pouted and her eyes were looking at the thousand lives ahead of them with a nostalgic, never-going-to-happen-to-me gaze.

''He looked at me as if I was crazy.'' she finally said and took a big breath. ''Then disappointed, then.. he left.'' she turned her head to see her. ''He left Hermione. He left.''

''Maybe he needs time, I mean..'' it was her turn to take a big breath. ''You told him that everything he read when he was a kid was real. Magic, wands, flying on brooms, magical creatures.. He needs time.'' there were times, Hermione wished of someone like herself had prepared her for the Magic World, someone smart, maybe well educated, who will tell her everything about the secret world she was part of - but then, there were times she wished she never knew.

''I didn't need time to move to London for him.''

''Don't say that.'' Hermione looked at her offended. ''If you do something, do it because is that you want and not to use it later to manipulate him, you Slytherin bitch.'' to her surprise Daphne laughed. ''I don't know why you left Wizarding Kindom, and I don't want to know if you are not feeling comfortable telling me, but I doubt he would thread you with your life if you didn't move there.'' she emptied her wine. Daphne left to stare at her, ''It's hard to realize there is a whole world prospering right besides you.''

''Why you are not with anyone?'' she asked her out of the blue and Hermione snorted. She didn't know what to tell her. She didn't know the reason herself.

What could she tell her? To the people of her own unmagical clan, she was a foreign - believe it or not, and to the people she dared to invade, she was a foreign too. No one could ever see her as equal, not like a person to be counted as the same - maybe something that was the reason, maybe the common past and education and war and whatever life that was, fucked her up so good, she cannot feel love anymore. ''I haven't found the one yet.'' maybe that was true enough.

Daphne snorted, ''Have you searched?''

''I was busy - what?'' Daphne started to laugh and Hermione did the same. ''I think I - '' her lips pressed together and her eyes fell from her. She wanted to tell her what had happened with Draco, only to see if she knew something, anything, about that day, if he had talked about her, if he had mentioned anything to her, or any of them. She wanted to see if she was someone in his life, if she had a small place in his mind or in his thoughts. She didn't demand it, but she wanted to think she had a place in his mind, at least in his mind - Daphne placed a hand on hers. It was as if she understood her struggle, she smiled at her. A kind smile, like the one Hermione gave her when Johnny was examining her. She wondered how good of a friend Daphne was, she pictured her with one of her own friends, sitting in a balcony like this, drinking wine, talking about their lives and their dreams, gossiping and laughing about whatever strange or random thing happened that day, she pictured her happy and well rested, comfortable in the company of her closed people. God, she missed Ginny, she missed a friend like her.

''What if you let me go shopping with you one day? I still feel obligated for what you have done - ''

''No, don't be.'' she nodded, ''What's wrong with my clothes?'' she frowned and looked at the extra large t-shirt she was wearing. ''I look - ''

''Like a teenager.'' Daphne laughed. ''First of all, you are too thin! I can ring the fingers of my hands around your thighs! Why aren't you eating?''

''I eat!'' her voice sounded offended, but then looked at her legs. She was still too thin. ''Some weeks ago, accidentally, I poisoned myself - ''

''What?''

''I was preparing this potion, and I tested on myself.'' she laughed, thinking about how stupid it might sound in her ears, but then what could she say to her? The truth? She hardly knows her and the truth, what could she actually say? ''I was in St. Mungo's for some weeks - ''

''You too?'' Daphne uncrossed her legs, ''Draco hospitalized for almost two weeks.'' she emptied the bottle of wine in Hermione's glass. ''He lost some of his magic, can you imagine?'' she laughed at his stupidity and stood up, ''Do you have more of those?'' she asked, but she had already gone inside looking for it, never noticing how Hermione's face looked both scared and excited at the same time.


	12. The Party

Silver Painted Moons

The Party

December, 2002

The ticking of the clock was making his ears bleed. Harry stood at the door of her apartment, his hand grabbing firmly the knob, knowing he didn't want to be here he looked with boiling guilt the empty space remembering a time when it was not hard for them to be in each other's company, to talk and call their friendship healthy. His heart felt heavier with every new beat. His lips pouted - he was feeling responsible for what had happened to her, even if he didn't know what that was yet. Luna's words popped to his tired mind, and he wished he haven't upset her in the first place, who knows what she might expose to him if he stopped being the asshole he was the first two weeks of December.

His free hand was holding a paper bag, filled with the white sheets his mother in-law gave him earlier this day. Molly had told him to go and set some cleaning charms, cover the furniture with the sheets and check with her bird, Athena, for mails - she was pretty sure, certain actually, she will return to her house soon. Last night she kept telling them how very positive she was that she will be home by the end of the year, that everything will be forgotten and well again. Ron told her it wasn't that easy, but Harry kept those words close to his guilty heart, wanting to forget what's like to lose someone.

The wedding ring on his finger made him feel trapped. He didn't complain, either he took it off. It was a great reminder of times like these. A great, great reminder.

Books were decorating the whole left side of the apartment. The bookcase was filled, the floors were filled, there were books even at the coffee and dining table - the ticking of the clock kept making his head spin. It was a tough morning and it was already lunch time - Molly had offered to cook for them again. He could tell he felt a bit ashamed - he took his wand out, starting to cast spells Molly suggested - sheets started to cover the furniture, flying from one corner to another. A picture of her and Ginny was on top of a small book-pile on top of the dining table. Harry smiled, remembering that very day - Hermione had graduated some weeks before, her first potion had been sold,_ it was a good year,_ he thought. He jumped a little - a small piece with the number 27 fell from the calendar in the kitchen, meeting other small pieces - if he paid attention to those, he would find out Hermione was not missing for a month, but only some days, but he wasn't paying attention, again.

Her bedroom looked naked. It almost felt as if he was crossing a thin line - the door of her closet was open. He didn't think twice to look inside. Her clothes were all there, new, old, casual, nightwear - a huge bag was resting at the end, he almost wouldn't see it, but there was some glitter catching his attention.

''Hermione was Cleopatra!?'' a voice made him jump.

* * *

_June 30th, 2002_

''We only have Cleopatra and Minnie Mouse at your size.'' the woman behind the cashier looked at her with a raised brow and a jealous grin on her face that had nothing to do with her asking about available costumes, but asking about a size she desperately needs to conquer. ''Over there.'' she pointed with her head the section with the extra small costumes and Hermione nodded. She hates rude people, but who was she to make her regret the venom coming out of her mouth?

Her nose wrinkled. The two costumes had stains on them - clearly whoever rented them last didn't care to clean them. Cleopatra's gown had food remains, Hermione widened her eyes and caressed the base of her wand. Fuck, who is this irresponsible and dirty? With the corner of her eye, she saw the woman fanning herself with a small gadget. She looked unbothered with her being looking at the costumes and Hermione wondered what article she was writing on Cosmopolitan that was so damn important - _maybe she just hates her job,_ she thought when the ring on the door sounded and she cared not to take her eyes away from her reading. Her hand grabbed her wand, ''Gemini.'' she cast. Of course she wasn't going to rent it! She didn't have the money and it was extremely, unrealistically expensive; 450 pounds per day? The new gown formed next to it - unfortunately its stains too. Hermione closed her eyes in defeat, with what can you wash a fake, glowing fabric like this one? Why is she thinking about it? She was a witch. She shrank the dress, placing it carelessly in her pocket - what about her face? She looked at the woman behind the cashier, every single mask was there, in a small glass box with a lock on it.

''Found a costume yet?'' her rude eyes fell on Hermione again.

''Can I have the mask please?'' she pointed at the gold mask, matching perfectly the fabric and shine of the gown. She paid almost fifty pounds, but fuck it, she worths it.

_July First, 2002_

_21:00_

The invitation said to be present at eight, but Hermione knew Slytherins will be coming until the very first hour of the party, and true to her expectations, she walked in the roof garden of the hotel Daphne organized the party at the same time as Adrian Pucey, who looked at her as if he knew her all his life - which he did, but it was now irrelevant to the main cause of her appearance there. As a date, Adrian had a lovely woman by his side, both dressed as superheroes from X-men their names couldn't recall. Hermione lowered her head, giving the invitation to the man guarding the reception, who offered her a smile after the tall glass of champagne.

The decorations were festive, the lights were low, the doors of the balcony were wide open, allowing the summer breeze to cool them down, music was playing in a certain bass, eyes were not on her - she loved it. A wide area with plants around the edges of the roof, marble floors meeting wooden ones, endless food, wine, firewhiskey and champagne at the, not one, not two, but three bars with bartenders and chefs preparing dishes and desserts whoever ask them to create something from scratch. At one of those bars was Astoria as Mortizia and Blaise as Gomez Addams taking new glasses of champagne - why the two of them came together? With the corner of her eye, she saw Daphne, she made an excellent DeVil. She was laughing and spinning in the hands of the man Hermione dared to guess it was Mark - he looked like the ultimate Muggle British boy, hair blond-brown, eyes gentleman blue, tall with what seems to be a lean body, Daphne rested her head on his chest making eye contact with Hermione and frowned, thinking who is she and why is she smiling at her.

People were trying to talk to her for the rest of the night, people she knew, people she shared classes with and heated words, people she knew from school, people she only dared to refer to them by their last name. She would say something like ''_how dare you not to remember me, Theo? Shame on you!''_ leaving them wondering who the fuck she is and how did she manage to look to damn good now, not bothering to follow her afterwards, feeling ashamed of not recognizing her - _Slytherins_, Hermione smiled to herself as the lights on the streets made her relax and rest her elbow on the railings on the left side of the roof, far away from the people in the party. A deep breath calmed her more, how little she felt above those people living ordinary lives, normal lives. She felt envious of those people, she felt as if the world was cruel to her, and only her, and even if she knew how fucking selfish she was, who could stop her thinking that way -

''The stars would shine brighter if all those lights disappear.'' a familiar voice made her held her breath. He looked bored, yet excited he shared some of his knowledge with someone he wouldn't expect, okay, he looked excited for showing off, she knew it, but she chose to ignore it. He was dressed - ''Dracula.'' he extended his hand and she looked at the fine, clean lines decorating it.

She had seen him from afar from the very first moment she stepped her only pair of heels in the garden roof. He was wearing slacks, white shirt with a velvet black vest, a cape with the same fabric on the inside and a black on on the outside, he hated putting it on and she knew it. ''Cleopatra.'' she introduced herself and cowardly she touched him. He looked surprised when her skin touched his, he frowned, wondering why it felt familiar and then - she took her eyes away from him moments before he could realize who she was - she knew it, she fucking knew it he could recognize her. She kept her eyes on the glass of champagne she was holding, slowly counting down the bubbles, slowly starting to regret her presence here, maybe it was wrong, maybe she should leave.

''To what pitiless God you glanced your cautiously eyes to get invited in this stupidity?'' he careened his head a bit, watching the profile of her face and dominantly resting his arm on the surface of the railing, not letting her leave.

''Do my eyes are really that cautiously looking?'' she asked, hearing him breathy laugh and then smirk - she looked at him for only a second before her attention went back to her glass. Her heart started to beat faster and, was that sweat in her hands?

''Is that really where you want to focus?'' his voice was amused and if she wanted to be honest with herself, so was she.

''Where would you like to focus?''

''To you.'' he smiled as the words came out of his mouth untroubled. It might be the very first time in his life he actually wanted to find out something about someone and that could only mean he felt intrigued by her. No one knew who she was, either what she had dressed, except Mark, who was kind enough to inform him about Cleopatra's origin and story.

Hermione left the glass on the railings and turned to see him face to face, eyes grey locked to browns, slowly starting to get lost inside their familiar shade and comfort,''But, today is not about me, is about you.''

Yes, it was and he knew it. But she, who was she to know it? She wasn't a friend, she wasn't family, not that he has any left, but she wasn't someone he knew, or at least he thought he didn't. Her eyes dared not to leave his. She was looking at him in a way he swore he felt before, in a way that was screaming _look, it's me, it's always had been me, look at me,_ but Draco wasn't looking, Draco couldn't look then, but now? Her scent felt familiar, even the way she was breathing felt familiar. Her cheeks blushed and he knew it was because he was watching - ''Do I know you?''

''Maybe.'' her voice came out as a whisper, as a small prayer of the unknown. He took a step towards her, and she took a step back. He frowned and she did the same, but her upper face was hidden, remember? He couldn't see her confusion, either her small desire she dared not to admit she had for him.

He extended his hand and she grabbed it with both, capturing him there for what seemed to be forever, but was only a second. ''Take off the mask.'' he demanded, he wished. She set his hand free.

''No.'' her eyes left his. ''For tonight I am Cleopatra.'' his lips smirked, ''You are Dracula.'' she took her drink again, wanting to taste some liquid courage.

''And where is Cleopatra's date for the night?'' Hermione pointed at her glass, ''Solid.'' he cheered his glass with hers.

''What about yours?''

He shrugged, ''Do I look like a Count with a bride to you?'' _yes, you do,_ she wanted to scream watching Astoria dancing with Blaise the night away.

''Of course not, you suck.'' to her surprise, he smirked, his whole face taking an amused grin, the kind she had seen in him before, whenever he was getting intrigued. And now he was, and now her heart was beating faster because he was. She looked at him and felt the need to talk to him about everything. Open her heart and her mind to him, know what he is thinking, feel what he is feeling, take away every single pain his eyes held and turn it to the most beautiful feeling in the world - ''What if I told you, that I know, let's call it a secret? A secret I shouldn't know. What would you say?''

It took him by surprise, ''Secrets can be dangerous.'' he spoke from experience and she knew it.

''Not this one - ''

''How do you know?'' he let his lips greet a sip of firewhiskey, smirking at the way her eyes were following his moves.

''I can feel it. It's - '' her tongue ran to her lips and he watched every second of it, allowing his eyes to lick her tall neck, her shining, soft skin, _who are you?_ he thought, but at this point he loved the mystery on her, the struggle he was putting himself to find the wanting answer. ''Not this one.'' her voice snapped him out of his thinking.

''I would say, treasure it.'' he frowned for a second with his response, ''If it helps seal a closure and live a life you always wanted, why not?''

''The life I wanted, is not the life I want now.''

He smiled, _aren't we all?_ ''What life do you want - '' the lights had gone out, some people were singing happy birthday, he should have rolled his eyes at the sight of the cake, but it was closed, he should have smirked, but his lips were occupied kissing Cleopatra, his hands should have patting shoulders of close friends, but it was resting careless on her exposed back and waist, hungrily feeling her warmth, softness - the lights blinded him. His hands were empty, his nose still smelling the light vanilla scent his fingerprints had intoxicated with.

Blaise was holding the cake, people were gathered around him, eyes were looking at him in awe and surprise - but he was looking around to find her, her who kissed him and dared to leave.


	13. The Malfoy

_Silver Painted Moons_

The Malfoy

_December, 2002_

A yawn wetted his grey eyes. He was tired, more than yesterday, at least - it wasn't a contest, and he knew it, but today was the longest day so far, and if he has to guess, his everyday life will be like this for now on. Maybe complaining was not an option and maybe that was not complaining just a small notice, but damn he had came too far to start loosen up and forget his goal of becoming the most powerful, envious business man in the whole World - yes, _world,_ because Draco Malfoy knew there was an unconquered world out there, desperately needing his name being carved in thick, unlifted stone with bold letters and undeniable prestige.

The heavy coat he bought some days ago was left on top of the sofa Daphne picked some months ago, he could say he hated it, but he liked it. His head was hurting in a way he never knew possible - it was as if his left eye had its own heart, pounding hard, but steady, making him feel a bit nauseous, but that could be from the firewhiskey he drank yesterday with Blaise. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to visit them, but fuck he needed his advice - his stomach sounded, his lunch was not that promising, and now he craved food like a pregnant woman. He pulled the black shirt he was wearing, letting it fall around his hips before opening two buttons around his neck, revealing healed sword-wounds. The opened door of the fridge cooled his exposed chest. Yes, he had a fridge, as well as a kitchen and a working oven and thank Merlin for his restaurant and the delivery he managed to trend, because even if the idea of cooking was not something he loved, either hate, it was clear enough to his experienced eyes, he had a good taste in food, drinks and anything fine life could easily provide, but actual cooking? He never thought himself chopping onion, boiling water, tasting sauces - the task at the moment seemed like climbing mountain Everest, how does he know Everest? Last year Blaise decided he wasn't adventurous enough, and of course it was a cry for attention from her eyes, but that didn't mean he should actually climb it - not that he did, he fainted and Draco had to steal someone else's memories. He smiled at his surprised face when he woke up, and he smiled now, realized how much he was willing to do for them.

He placed his order, stretching his arms above his head and watching at the late hour.

The empty bottle of red wine caught his attention and he caressed his bottom lip with his thumb, not knowing why he was still thinking about it, either why he couldn't take his mind off her. He could easily say she madly charmed him - and if that was the case, why he feels so guilty about it?

* * *

_May, 1998_

His head was fuzzy, his whole body was hurting. He was sore, he was in pain. A numb pain, the kind he wanted to feel, to make sure he was indeed alive.

The need to drink water was making his throat itching - it was an unknown feeling, a new one - all his life Narcissa could force him to drink water regularly. It was her way to say I love you. He looked at the glass on top of the wooden table - how can something be so far away from him, ''Do you want some water?'' he heard a familiar voice and he turned his gaze to the sight of Potter at his side, his hands holding a book, his face had a small, slowly healing bruise, his lips were pressed together as if the words he spoke were not meant to be sound, his eyes travelling anywhere else than him - he might have kept reminding himself not to look at him. Draco wondered what would he have seen in his eyes that moment, could it be pity? Shame? The only heir tried to find his wand, remembering he lost it to him - and even if he had it, he wouldn't be able to use it, his magic worn off thanks to Granger -

Fuck, he shouldn't think about her, Potter can read minds right? His father told him about -

''Blink if you are thirsty - '' as if he, a Malfoy, will allow his guards to fall for the lacks of a Potter. A Potter! He wanted to laugh, he ought to laugh!

''Yes.'' hoarse voice sounded weird to both boys. ''I am thirsty.'' to his surprise, he stood up, shamelessly taking the glass in his hands and offering it to him. ''Thanks.'' Harry nodded and looked at his hurt face. He looked darker, his skin looked darker - as if he was filled with black pitch, covering his whole body, every inch, every hidden corner, replacing every magical cell to a weak one, an unknown one. He looked haunted and maybe he was. He had read somewhere that the current present is the past one might regret, he wondered if Draco had regretted everything, even his whole life. Harry felt his compassion raising for him, he knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself by feeling a small sadness for the Malfoy heir. His mother died by runaway Death Eaters, but he didn't know if Draco knew that at the moment, as he had been found unconscious in the staircases back in Hogwats, unrecognized and shaken like a fish out of the water. Fuck, he didn't know if he knew about his father either! Lucius Malfoy. His sentence had been sealed from the moment his presence at the court shown. No one was around. Either he had someone to talk for his behave. He accepted everything, saying nothing, and then he left to Azkaban. Someone asked about the Kiss, but Harry was shocked enough to hear what Kingsley said. Later, he found out he will accept it one day.

From this day forward, Draco Malfoy was an orphan.

Harry left the empty glass aside, ''I know what you did.''

He snorted, ''What did I do now?'' by the look on his face, Draco told himself to be cautious.

''This is what we are allowed to say about what happened.'' he extended his hand, leaving a folded parchment next to him. ''We will keep our mouths shut, I expect you to do the same.'' Draco met his eyes, regretting it - they were filled with demons, prayers, loneliness and fucking hope. Hope. He hated it. So very much.

He couldn't hold the letter longer, either he could keep re-reading it, knowing Potter knew he was pretending and, alright, who could he kid? He could remember something he read when he was four, he certainly couldn't keep this letter longer. He wished he had something else to say to him, rather than admitting what he have done. He wished he hadn't used his spell, his salvation to her. Maybe he even wished he wasn't himself this very moment, and he wouldn't have been if it wasn't for her - _her._ His jaw tightened. _How is she?_ Perhaps he could ask him, ''Your written instructions are not to be read by me. What ever happened that day.. let's consider it gone.''

''I really tried to- ''

''You did not have to.'' he stopped him from talking, he didn't want to hear whatever word he had to say anymore, not because he wasn't going to believe him, he would, and that scared him, but Harry Potter helping him stay out of prison will not be the highlight of his life, even if he was appreciated of it, maybe an expensive gift - ''I accepted my fate, I am not a saint.'' there was a relief to his eyes, Draco could see it behind his perfectly round glasses. He asked himself then, how would everything be if Potter had accepted the friendship invitation some years ago, how much theirs lives would be different now - maybe none of it would have happened to him, either to Potter, Weasley and Hermione. Maybe they could have defeated the Dark Lord together, maybe he wouldn't have been in this hospital bed, with lost magic and a weak body - is he selfishly thinking about himself right now -

''How well spelled is she?'' Harry asked out of the blue and Draco's eyes widened at once. Maybe he shouldn't ask, maybe he shouldn't even stay with him much longer, who knew what else his lips will mumble - ''Memory lost, undefined dicease, unicorn hair missing from your wand - how, how did you manage to perfectly free a unicorn hair?'' it wasn't the question he craved to find an answer for, but looking at his tired features, bruised face and skin, Harry thought to give him a small credit for his achievement - what the fuck he was thinking about? ''How well spelled is she?'' he asked again, this time his eyes fell from his starving body.

''Quite.'' Draco looked a bit prideful yet feared and regretful. He didn't want to spell her, he didn't want to do that to her, but she was in pain, and she was suffering and he had a spell, a spell he created for himself. It was the simplest plan. The war ends, his friends are safe, his parents are, well somewhere, his known life would have reached an end, and all that thanks to his spell. The spell he spared for her. If anyone had read those romantic novels his mothers was hidding in the end of her closet under numerous spells Draco found easily to break, he would say he made the ultimate sacriface for his lover, but in his eyes, there was no romantic feelings involve, only regret, maybe a bit of shame and a small, smallest than the head of a pin hope, a hope to fix what his family had made once more. What if Hermione walked away with his chance to start over? What if she forgot who and how she lost her memories? At least he helped someone who really suffered, who really needed it. Maybe it was romantic in a way he never thought, maybe deep down, he knew she will fight till her last breath and wanted to give her that smallest than a pin's head hope. Who was he to say no to Gryffindor's Princess?

''Get well soon Malfoy.'' Harry didn't even look at him when wished. He closed the door behind him, letting him alone again. Maybe he should be alone, maybe his idle, vile life meant to be spent alone.

Ironic, wasn't it?

* * *

_September, 2000_

It was her birthday. She was wearing a white satin dress, ending in the middle of her calfs, he knew it wasn't hers, and a smile on her face that could easily radiate the whole room mimicking the sun - no. The sun could burn someone if he is not careful enough and Hermione is not dangerous, is warm, but in a comforting, peaceful way, filling one with internal hopeful and a desire to conquer, so no, she wasn't mimicking the sun but the moon, an August moon, so fiereceful unknown yet familiar.

He left to stare at her from afar, not wanting to get too close, fearing the tipsy feeling in the back of his throat and what it might do to him.

She was so happy. She was laughing, and talking, and smiling to that awfully young ginger haired friend of hers - she was happy. For a brief second, Draco Malfoy thought he did something good for her, he saved her in a way only he knew possible, he gave her something he wanted more than anything in the world - but, what if she is not that happy? What if she is pretending like he used to the past couple of years? What if she was faking her well being, what if she was as miserable as him? The idea bombed his head, burning his eyes with a single question, is she really happy?

The smile on her face turned to a rather nostalgic one. Her eyes were looking at a couple in the cornered booth, watching each other eyes, gazing into their future together - he realized then that she is missing what he is missing. Love. But Draco couldn't believe in selfless love. Everyone wanted something, everyone wished for something. His eyes met hers - what? The expression they shared with the small smile and begging eyes change and now his cheeks turned red and his eyes rushed to look away. He prayed to Merlin she didn't recognize him in the smoke steaming, crowded room.

He paid the bartender and left, thanking Merlin and any other God willing to hear his gratitude she had a second chance. _At least her,_ he thought and his lips curled into a small smile.

* * *

_May Twelveth, 2002_

He had one meeting at ten and another at three, following by dinner with Blaise and Astoria at her house. He wasn't fond of travelling all the way to Muggle London in rush hour to meet them, either he was fond of staying in her house for more than some hours, mostly because the yelling of car horns and people going home could easily steal his hearing away. He had asked her repeatedly to silence the house, but she simply said _no, I love it, it reminds me of home_ \- and Draco knew that was true. It was the only real thing, this constant noise of existence, making him remember his own home too. And no, it's not because it was loud in the Manor, or the Greengrass country estate, no - it was the opposite. Both houses had the most deafening silence, burning one's ears and making them beg for someone to talk, or even breath loud enough to cause some distraction so they couldn't drive themselves crazy - no matter what, he still hates it.

A squeaky noise made him grin. His hand wiped at the white towel around his hips, revealing a sculpted torso with wide shoulders and multiple healed cuts on his skin. He looked at his reflection and frowned - he looked tired, weak, sick even. He didn't look like this some before he took his shower. Maybe hot water in the morning was not that good for him, what urged him to take a hot shower?

The hair behind his back rose and his spine shivered. A weak feeling caught up with him, suddenly he felt comforting around it, familiar. Where did he feel that feeling before? And when? His eyes focused on his reflection. Too weak, too pale, he scared his own self thinking something was wrong. All those years he had thought he was a demigod, a structured by Gods man who had nothing to fear in the matter of bodily health, because of anything else, he was terrifying, ''Fuck.'' he mumbled as he realized when he had felt this kind of shiver before. He forced himself to see his reflection, but that was not him, it was someone else, someone he saw days ago. His iris dilated - he might have cursed or mumbled something under his clenched jaw, his vision blurred, his body folded in two. He was in pain. Terrifying pain. And cold. Sweat was running down his spine, cold, freezing sweat that was making him shiver. His mind was trying hard to keep some sanity trying to visualize how the fuck did she manage to break his spell, how the fuck did she manage to heal herself, to heal him?

He let out a groan. His knees betrayed him and fell on the floor, hitting his head on the shower glass door, breaking both.

* * *

_December, 2002_

The calender was marked on the second day of the month. For the past couple of weeks, everyone kept talking about Christmas and what they will go this winter break, making him wish this wintery season, with decorations and unexpected gifts being shown off like a fine jewel never come. He never thought how much he loved or not this season. The only thing that he enjoyed was the cold - he used to it at the Slytherin common room and corridors around it.

He had ordered food from his restaurant. Looking at it now, he could make a job out of it - the door of his loft sounded and Draco cleared his throat before opening the heavy wooden door and his lips fell apart, ''What are you doing here?''


End file.
